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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013893">The Real Housewives of Republic City</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3'>ang3lba3</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox'>Mellomailbox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Real Housewives of Republic City [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bisexual Sokka, Blue Spirit Zuko (Avatar), Chronic Pain, Gay Sokka, Identity Porn, Idiots in Love, Jet's an asshole, Kidnapping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Recreational Drug Use, Republic City, Self Medicating, Soap Opera, Vigilante AU, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, exes for everyone!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:02:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a Republic City where vigilantes roam the streets, someone has to feed and clothe them. Enter Sokka, professional tailor, restaurant owner, and occasional Southern Water Tribe medicine dealer. He has a pretty great life, if he says so himself. </p>
<p>Now if only the Blue Spirit would stop flirting <em>back...</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Real Housewives of Republic City [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>714</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>mello might not be awake to accept the co-creator invitation for a few hours yet but... this ours!! this first installment may end up having 3 chapters instead of 2, depending. </p>
<p>enjoy!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s night time on a Thursday, the kind of night time where part of the city has gone to sleep and the other half has just finished waking up. Sokka’s wiped down the counters, done inventory, and is killing time up by the counter with a pile of paperwork. </p>
<p>Sokka’s favorite thing about Thursdays comes sauntering through the doors to his shop. He ignores the ‘closed’ sign, effortlessly picking the lock that Sokka has made a point to lock for the express purpose of watching his dark, lithe figure bent down and working on it. </p>
<p>“Locks are getting better,” the Blue Spirit says. He pulls a purse out of his pocket, slaps it on the counter. Like every purse he brings, it’s fine cloth, finer embroidery. </p>
<p>“Maybe you’re just getting worse,” Sokka counters, propping his chin on his palm and making no secret of the way that his eyes wander down the Blue Spirit’s physique. </p>
<p>“Take a compliment,” the Blue Spirit growls, and leans over the counter. He pushes the bag forward, coins jingling. His ponytail slips over his shoulder, brushing against the side of the mask.</p>
<p>Spirits, but Sokka <em>loves </em>Thursdays. Tall, Dark and Grumbly is almost close enough to touch. Sokka takes advantage, reaching for the purse quick enough that their fingers brush. </p>
<p>The Blue Spirit doesn’t pull his hand back immediately. Lets the touch linger. Then, with a deep sigh, pulls back. His hair falls back over his shoulder with a shake of his head, and he straightens. </p>
<p>“Flirting isn’t going to get you better prices,” Sokka says, batting his eyelashes. It’s fucking thrilling, teasing the faceless mask, the muscled body with no identity. “But it’ll get you a date if you try a little harder.” </p>
<p>“Then I won’t try it,” the Blue Spirit says. He holds out a palm, twitches his fingers. “Drugs, please.”</p>
<p>Sokka pretends to be physically wounded, clutching his heart and spraying imaginary blood. He drapes over the counter, playing dead. It’s hard to tell through the mask, but he’s pretty sure he hears a laugh. </p>
<p>A gloved finger pokes his forehead. “Drugs.”</p>
<p>“A kiss will wake the maiden,” Sokka explains helpfully against the countertop. His breath makes condensation, wetting his lips. It stinks. He needs to brush his teeth. </p>
<p>More fingers join the ones on his forehead, thumb and fingers pressed together. Then the Blue Spirit, very distinctly, says, “Mwah.”</p>
<p>He pulls his fingers away.</p>
<p>Sokka is pretty sure that he’s going to die. </p>
<p>“Magic,” Sokka says with a flourish, and in his palm is a little wooden box with the Blue Spirit’s purchase tucked neatly inside of it. </p>
<p>The mask is grimacing, as always. Sokka likes to think that the Blue Spirit’s shoulders are smiling at him. They’re definitely more relaxed than when he’d first walked in.</p>
<p>“Medicine,” the Blue Spirit says. He folds the box into his palm, and when he opens it again, it’s empty. “But close enough.”</p>
<p>“Only the finest illegal medicine for my favorite vigilante,” Sokka agrees. “Fire Root from the Southern Islands, and Water Weed from the mystical waters of the South Pole.” </p>
<p>“Don’t let Lady hear you calling me your favorite,” the Blue Spirit says. He leans against the counter again, surveying the world outside the windows. </p>
<p>Sokka reels back, pretending to be offended. “As if the Painted Lady scares me!” Then he looks around dramatically, as if she’ll materialize right next to them. That gets another maybe laugh from the Blue Spirit, and Sokka’s spirits soar. </p>
<p>There’s a smile in the Blue Spirit’s voice when he talks. “You going to count that?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Sokka says, swiping the bag of coins under the counter. “Everyone knows you’re the most honest thug in the lower rings.” </p>
<p>The Blue Spirit tips his head to the side, fixing Sokka with a glare through the small eye holes. It’s impossible to see what color his eyes are.</p>
<p>“Should still count it,” he says. “Everyone lies.”</p>
<p>“And you should,” Sokka says, but doesn’t have anything funny to add. “...check the drugs? What if I’m the one who’s a liar?” </p>
<p>“Everyone lies,” the Blue Spirit repeats, and pushes himself off the counter. He raises a hand in farewell. “And in that case I suppose I’ve just paid for the pleasure of your company.”</p>
<p>La and Tui, this guy is so fucking cool. Sokka blushes, and waves his little wave back, speechless. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Zuko runs as soon as he’s out of sight of the restaurant. </p>
<p>Did he really? End that discussion? Implying Sokka was a prostitute? What’s <em>wrong</em> with him? </p>
<p>It’s like he sees him, and Sokka does his easy flirtation— the same way he does with the Blind Bandit, and the Kyoshi Warrior— and Zuko just loses his head every time. Tries to flirt back, up the ante, mimicking him and taking it too far. </p>
<p>Someday Sokka is going to call him on it, and it’s going to be really, really horrible, and he’s going to have to find another person to buy medicinal illegal drugs from. </p>
<p>But right now he’s just going to go take off the costume and do a bunch of his medicinal illegal drugs until he feels better.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Sokka loves Fridays. His favorite thing about Fridays comes waltzing in just as he’s opening shop, running into the closed and locked doors, ignoring the ‘closed’ sign. He blinks, running his hand over the seam of the doors, and squints to try and see inside. </p>
<p>He sees Sokka and taps on the glass. Sokka grins, hopping over the counter, and opens the door for him. </p>
<p>“Hi,” Zuko says. He blinks slowly at Sokka, smiling. </p>
<p>“Hi,” Sokka says back, gesturing him inside. “If you want something to eat you gotta work for it, hotshot. Light my equipment.” </p>
<p>“Am I late again?” Zuko asks, but heads into the kitchen easily enough. He drops to his knees in front of the fuel grate to the oven, checks that it’s stocked. </p>
<p>“That depends on if you’re working here or if you’re my best customer,” Sokka answers, opening up containers and putting them in their places in his prep area. </p>
<p>“Stop trying to poach me from Toph,” Zuko complains, and cups a flame in his palm. He blows on it, and it slides down his fingertips, catches in the grating. </p>
<p>It’s not like Sokka can blame him; Toph pays her underground fight club employees  <em>well. </em>That and there’s a kind of romance, a drama, to punching people in the face for a living. Not so much with frying kelp.</p>
<p>“You’re early, then.” </p>
<p>“Oh, in that case,” Zuko says, and rises to his feet, smiling soft and loose. </p>
<p>It’s different, now, when he does that. The burn has changed the shape of his face, and the shapes it can make. It’s a little crooked, wider on one side than the other. It’s just as endearing.</p>
<p>“You get a hold of some good stuff?” Sokka asks, noting how Zuko’s moving around easily and without wincing. Ever since the burn Zuko’s had to play a game against time, medicating away the nerve pain in batches, the best solutions illegal in the name of “propriety.” Sokka thinks it’s more that the Fire Nation elite can’t monopolize it, since the drugs are native to the Southern Tribes and a few Southern Earth Kingdom Island. </p>
<p>“Only the best,” Zuko agrees. “I am a bit early here, though. If it makes you uncomfortable, I could come back—” </p>
<p>“Shut up and sit down,” Sokka says, pushing Zuko to his seat. And it <em>is </em>his seat, moved into the kitchen with a little table so that he can keep Sokka company while he works, always stopping by aimless and cheerful. </p>
<p>Zuko laughs, giddy and nervous, but sits. He leans his head against his palm, watches Sokka move around the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Hungry,” Zuko says, more of a verbalized thought than a conversation starter. Sokka rolls his eyes, helplessly fond, and gestures to one of the coolers. </p>
<p>“Your nasty snack is in there.” </p>
<p>Zuko pushes his chair back, then pauses. “So I can stand up?” he asks.</p>
<p>Sokka points the spatula at him aggressively, opens his mouth, sees Zuko’s snarky expression, and closes his mouth again. <em>“No.” </em></p>
<p>“Hmm,” Zuko says, and scooches the chair across the tile. It makes a horrible screeching noise, and Zuko has to pause to cover his ears, grimacing. </p>
<p>“You are such a <em>brat</em>,” Sokka mutters, rolling his eyes, and gets back to prepping for the lunch crowd. He’s the only authentic street food vendor for Southern Water Tribe cuisine in the entirety of Republic City, and he definitely has his regulars. </p>
<p>“You’re a brat,” Zuko says, and drops on his knees, shuffling the rest of the way. He pops the cooler door open with some difficulty, fingers fumbling with the clasp. “I’m hilarious.”</p>
<p>“The jury’s still out on that one,” Sokka tells him, leaning over Zuko’s back to drop the canister of Fire Flakes he only has on the premises for Zuko because the food here is <em>authentic </em>and Fire Flakes are an <em>abomination. </em></p>
<p>“Yeah,” Zuko says, grabbing out the wrapped raw dough. “Cuz I’m <em>peerless.”</em></p>
<p>“Raw dough and Fire Flakes,” Sokka moans, not for the first time. “If ever there was a pamphlet to turn our youth away from drugs, the side effect being a <em>raw dough and Fire Flake </em>craving would do it.” </p>
<p>“I pay extra for traumatizing you,” Zuko says. He knee shuffles back to his chair, shoulder hitting Sokka’s hip as he goes. </p>
<p>“Mhm,” Sokka says, unconvinced, and drops the first batch of extra greasy kelp fries on the table too. “Nasty.” </p>
<p>Zuko hauls himself back up into his chair, managing to never quite stand. “Delicious,” he corrects, and starts shoveling it into his mouth with his fingers.</p>
<p>Sokka doesn’t get to argue with him any more (even though he really, really wants to), instead opening up the shop as he’s swept into the minutiae of running a business. </p>
<p>***
</p>
<p>Monday night. Sokka’s least favorite day of the week.</p>
<p>“No,” he says, bopping Jet on the head with his broom. “Bad. Leave.”</p>
<p>“I’m a paying customer,” Jet says, and punches the broom away. Sokka unrepentantly boops him again.</p>
<p>“I don’t sell information,” Sokka says. </p>
<p>“What about kelp fries?” Smellerbee asks. Jet twists to glare at her, and Sokka gets the back of his head with the broom. “What. I’m hungry. So’s Longshot.”</p>
<p>Longshot stares without comment or expression. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to be rude about it,” Jet says to Longshot. Then he turns back to Sokka. “We’ll buy your fries, and have a friendly conversation with a business owner while we eat.” </p>
<p>Sokka groans, slouching his way to the kitchen. Jet is going to wax dramatic about the wealth inequality between the different districts (true), try and convince Sokka that the only way to rectify it is through violence (possibly) and attempt to trick Sokka into revealing the identities of his clients in order to create a unified army against the elite (never). </p>
<p>Predictably, Jet starts with, “You have to see how the people of Ice Town are starving, Sokka.” </p>
<p>“My sister lives in Ice Town,” Sokka says. “She’s a healer. I’ve seen.” Sokka lives in Little Earth Kingdom, ‘cause he got the apartment when Toph decided to move to a different part of the city. </p>
<p>“You’ve seen the ones who can <em>afford a healer,</em>” Jet scoffs. Sokka braces himself to explain the concept of a ‘sliding fee clinic’ again.</p>
<p>Despite the ‘closed’ sign, the door opens again, bell dinging. Despite the person entering being his ex girlfriend, Sokka lights up at the sight of her as she spins her key on her finger. 
</p>
<p>“Suki!” he says. </p>
<p>“Sokka!” she says, and runs forward, hugging him around the neck. </p>
<p>“I thought you were going to be on your home island for another few months,” he says, making no effort to let her go, arms comfortably around her waist. She tugs fondly on his wolfs tail. </p>
<p>“I was,” she says. “But I have good news! Really good news. I’m going to need another dress.” </p>
<p>“Gotta look your best for me, I get it,” Sokka simpers, pretending to lean in for a kiss. </p>
<p>Suki pulls back, punches his upper arm. Then stops punching it and just feels the muscle for a second. “Hm. No. Actually, it’s for my new-old girlfriend. She decided to move back with me!”</p>
<p>“My heart,” Sokka moans, and smells the kelp fries, untangling himself. “Hold that slutty, slutty thought, I have customers.” Sokka hops over the counter back to the kitchen, pulling up the fries and sliding the meat off of the grill and onto two paper trays. </p>
<p>“Oh, hey Smellerbee,” Suki says, turning to wave. She doesn’t acknowledge anyone else. Smellerbee flushes, stares down at her hands. </p>
<p>“Hey, Suki,” Smellerbee mutters.</p>
<p>Sokka drops the food off with Longshot and Smellerbee, stilling when Jet grabs his wrist as he passes. Spirits, when will Jet take a fucking <em>hint. </em></p>
<p>“The answer is no, Jet,” Sokka says slowly, yanking his wrist. Jet doesn’t let go. </p>
<p>“This scumbag bothering you?” Suki asks, and flexes subtly, pushing Sokka behind her. It doesn’t break Jet’s grip, but does push Sokka a little off balance. </p>
<p>“Jet,” Smellerbee says, and puts her hand on Jet’s wrist. Jet doesn’t move. Smellerbee begins to squeeze. </p>
<p>“You have a responsibility to your people,” Jet tells him for the hundredth time. </p>
<p>“And I have a responsibility to not let my ex girlfriend kill you!” Smellerbee says, and squeezes Jet’s wrist so hard that he gasps, letting go of Sokka. “Be <em>smart</em>, Jet.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Jet,” Suki agrees, “be smart. Take your food and beat it.” </p>
<p>“It’s really hot how you muscle my hecklers, have I ever told you that?” Sokka tells her appreciatively. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Suki says, and sweeps her hair behind one ear, grinning. “It is pretty hot.”</p>
<p>Smellerbee, checking to make sure Jet isn’t looking, nods in agreement. Longshot stares at her.</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up,” Smellerbee says, and shoulders him. She drops some coins on the table. “Thanks for the food, Sokka.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be back,” Jet says. “I don’t give up, not when people need me.” </p>
<p>“Nobody needs you stealing purses and heckling grandparents in the upper rings, Jet,” Suki sighs. Sokka couldn’t have said it better, so he turns back to cleaning up for the night, confident that the worst part about Mondays is mostly finished. </p>
<p>“Fire Nation elite! Scum!” Jet says, waving his arms. Smellerbee and Longshot lock arms with him at the elbows, dragging him backwards out of the shop. In their other hands they hold the food. “This isn’t over!”</p>
<p>Suki shuts and locks the door after them, flipping the closed sign. </p>
<p>“Alright, gimme the slutty details,” Sokka says, leading Suki into the side room that holds the supplies for his tailoring side gig. He pushes aside a curtain that leads to a hidden set of stairs, and Suki follows him up.</p>
<p>“You’re always so optimistic about costume design,” Suki laughs. “She gave me a sketch. She’s Northern Water Tribe.”</p>
<p>Soskka pushes his forehead against the wall, moaning, “No! The me, but <em>better!</em>” Suki shoves him the rest of the way up the stairs and into his second office. </p>
<p>“Well, she is a woman,” Suki says. “When are you gonna find the me, but manlier?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t exist,” Sokka says, eyeing her appreciatively. He pulls out one of the costuming dolls that’s currently only stuffed with pins and takes the sketch out of Suki’s hands. </p>
<p>“The Blue Spirit finally get tired of you darting his pants to highlight his butt?” Suki asks, sympathetically.</p>
<p>“Worse,” Sokka says, making notes on the doll. “He’s flirting <em>back. </em>Like, a lot.” </p>
<p>“Oh, horrendous,” Suki says, and flops into a chair. </p>
<p>“I think he’s playing with me,” Sokka tells her. “Does your new girl want armor anywhere except the chest?” </p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound like the Blue Spirit,” Suki says, and makes a face. “I wouldn’t call him the… playful type. And no, she doesn’t. She’s going to use ice.” </p>
<p>She wiggles her fingers. “Waterbender.”</p>
<p>“Slut,” Sokka says again, dodging the pin cushion that Suki throw at him. “Just ask my sister out already.” </p>
<p>“I’ll have you know that she’s a <em>real</em> lady,” Suki says, eyes dancing with a secret. “Way out of my league. We’re getting separate apartments and everything.”</p>
<p>“A dramatic love between classes? Gosh, Jet would nut himself,” Sokka whistles, adding a few notes to the paper. He caps the pen with the lid between his lips and passes it back to Suki. </p>
<p>“Don’t ever bring Jet up in the same sentence as Yue again,” Suki says, and throws another pin cushion. This one Sokka doesn’t dodge.</p>
<p>“OF THE NORTHERN WATER TRIBE?” he asks. “THAT YUE?” </p>
<p>“Yep,” Suki says, and leans backwards, spreading her arms and legs out, smirking.</p>
<p>“Gimme that back,” Sokka says, reaching for the paper, “I gotta add a few extra numbers on the estimate.” Yue of the Northern Water Tribe is a <em>princess. </em>She’s <em>The </em>princess, there are <em>posters. </em></p>
<p>“Ah-ah,” Suki says, and stuffs it into her bra. “No extra charges for your exes! Remember?”</p>
<p>“Yue—” Sokka blushes. “Yue is <em>not</em> my ex.”</p>
<p>“I dunno,” Suki says, laughing at him. “She told me all about how you kissed on the bridge when you were sixteen. Since you’re like, basically a <em>prince—”</em></p>
<p>Sokka thought, after baring his heart and his dick to her, that there would be nothing left for Suki to humiliate him with. It’s probably why they get along so well. </p>
<p>“Okay, <em>practically </em>Kyoshi royalty,” he snips back, and ruffles her hair. She flushes. </p>
<p>“I am! It’s in the records, I’m directly—”</p>
<p>“Descended from Kyoshi, the original Queen of Kyoshi Island,” Sokka says, and ruffles harder. “And I just <em>bet </em>that never came up, wooing her—”</p>
<p>“Yue has a very dignified respect for a person’s cultural context and hist—”</p>
<p>There’s a knock on the door. The secret door that nobody is supposed to know about, because it’s the door to the room where Sokka makes costumes and armor for the illegal vigilantes of Republic City. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Zuko waits outside the door, considering knocking again. He’s not wearing his usual costume, having had to trade the reinforced armor of the shirt for a plain black tunic. It feels odd. Naked. Unprotected.</p>
<p>It’s not helped by the way it still hurts him to breathe in, even after two hours of the Painted Lady healing the worst of the breaks to his ribcage. They’ll be bruised for at least a few more weeks.  </p>
<p>He raises his hand, already knocking, as the door swings open. His knuckles fall forward strangely, brushing against Sokka’s cheekbone as his hand falls. </p>
<p>Sokka’s eyes widen, taking in his appearance and the armor bundled in his hands, and he drags him inside. </p>
<p>“Careful,” Zuko snaps, body bruised and too tense for sudden movements like that. He shoves the bundled armor into Sokka’s arms. “This is broken.” </p>
<p>“Your mask is broken!” Sokka exclaims, eyeing the split down the left side from horn to tooth. There’s no way to see beyond it to the hidden face, but there’s blood in the seam. He takes the armor.</p>
<p>“It happens,” Zuko says, and lowers himself into a chair. </p>
<p>“Spirit,” Suki nods, as if having her identity explicitly out in the open is normal for her. As usual, she faces the unexpected with the biggest dick energy of anyone in the room. </p>
<p>“Hey, Kyoshi,” Zuko says, raising a tired hand in greeting. Then he flinches, realizing he can see her face. “Uh.”</p>
<p>“If I didn’t want you to know,” she says airily, “then you wouldn’t.” </p>
<p>“No, I knew who you were,” Zuko says. Sokka treats Kyoshi and Suki exactly the same. It wasn’t hard to figure out. “I just didn’t know that I was allowed to know.”</p>
<p>Sokka looks at Suki. “Do you know who <em>he </em>is?” 
</p>
<p>She glares at him. “If I wanted you to know, I would tell you,” she says, taking the armor from his hands and placing it on the dummy they’d been mapping Yue’s costume on. </p>
<p>“I would prefer it if you didn’t,” Zuko says. “As a professional courtesy.”</p>
<p>“Noted,” Suki says. Sokka looks between them, torn, but his nosy tendencies are outweighed by a strikingly unexpected professionalism as he gets to work examining the armor. </p>
<p>“Am I good?” Suki asks, shaking the paper and eying the Blue Spirit emphatically. </p>
<p>“You’re terrible,” Sokka says. “I’ll never forgive you for anything that’s happened here today. But the sketch is fine.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best,” Suki says, kissing his cheek. 
</p>
<p>Zuko, watching, presses on his ribcage harder. It’s wonderfully distracting. </p>
<p>
“No,” Sokka says, “your girlfriend is the best. Enjoy yourself, for me.” </p>
<p>Zuko’s elbow twitches, knocks over an old cup. </p>
<p>Suki catches the cup and places it back where it was. “Oh, I <em>will. </em>And I’ll think of you the whole time.” </p>
<p>“Don’t tell her that!” Sokka says. “Out with you! Be nice to her!”</p>
<p>“I’m VERY nice to her!” Suki says, laughing as she backs through the door. “In fact, I’m the <em>nicest </em>she’s <em>ever</em> had—”</p>
<p>“EVIL WITCH,” Sokka yells, grinning. “I WILL NEVER FORGET THE PAIN AND PINING YOU CAUSE ME!” Suki cackles as she thunders down the stairs. </p>
<p>Sokka turns to Zuko, still smiling. “Well, seeing you just made my night better. I have something for you.” </p>
<p>Zuko stares at him blankly, trying to figure out what on <em>earth</em> Sokka could have for him. He’s still trying to piece together the interaction with Suki, fit it in with the other bits that he knows. “... a bill?” he hazards. </p>
<p>“Oh, eventually,” Sokka nods, turning and digging around in a chest of drawers. His ass is <em>right </em>in Zuko’s face. The workshop is very small, crowded with bolts of cloth and mannequins and armor. Despite slacks and button downs being the fashion, Sokka still wears mostly tribal clothing, likely the only thing preserving Zuko’s sanity. </p>
<p>Zuko turns to stare at the far wall. His hair flops over his shoulder as he does. He should probably stop wearing it so loose— it had almost cost him tonight, to have it in a ponytail instead of braided tight to his skull— but it increases his situational awareness too much to give up. Even turned away, he can feel the shifts of Sokka’s muscles in the way it parts his hair, knows the second that he stands up in the way the air pushes through to his neck. </p>
<p>He keeps staring at the wall, just in case.</p>
<p>“I’m working on some experimental stuff with the Blind Bandit,” Sokka says, turning and brandishing a black robe. It’s embroidered with blue silk dragons. The sleeves reach elbow-length, rounded in the Fire Nation style but not too round to hinder combat. The hem reaches about mid-thigh, if Zuko’s guessing correctly. </p>
<p>Zuko picks up an edge, lets the fabric run through his fingers. He’d taken his gloves off earlier, in the pile of armor that he’d handed Sokka. It’s silky, but— rough? Or… gritty. Gritty.</p>
<p>“If you wanted me rock hard,” he says. “This is a weird way to go about it.”</p>
<p>Zuko lets the fabric finish falling through his fingers, hand suddenly numb. That’s— oh no. That was <em>not</em> what he meant. He meant, to point out that the Blind Bandit made <em>rock armor,</em> and that it’s weird to embroider him a pretty robe and then infuse rocks into it if Sokka wants to give him <em>rock hard armor— </em></p>
<p>Sokka turns red, and breaks out into a grin, delighted. “Well, metalbent armor is a pretty serious gift. If we’re talking first date territory, I can take this back and try something a little less--” </p>
<p>“This is good,” Zuko says, and fists his hand in the fabric. “I don’t have money on me, right now.”</p>
<p>Sokka stares pointedly at the pale skin of Zuko’s chest where his tunic has come open, the ties loose. He waggles his eyebrows. “I can see that you don’t have much of anything on you at the moment.” </p>
<p>Zuko lets go of the robe, hand reaching to pull the ties shut before the blush on his face can reach his chest. </p>
<p>“Unless you’re accepting payment in the form of ‘clothes off my back’,” he says, jerking the laces tight. “I’ll have to come back.”</p>
<p>“<em>Could I</em>?” Sokka asks eagerly, reaching to touch the edge of a sleeve. He rubs the silk between his fingers, eyes twinkling. “I’d sure like to.” </p>
<p>“Are you feverish?” Zuko asks, even though he’s the one who feels feverish. “These aren’t worth that much.”</p>
<p>“Mm,” Sokka agrees, “But the view definitely is.” Then he winks. </p>
<p>Zuko stares at him, for a long moment, and the confident smile slowly slips.</p>
<p>“You’re insane,” he decides, and undoes his laces. The blush is definitely down through his chest now, and he has to undo them fairly far to get it over his head with the mask still on. The bruising is obvious, mottled skin and scars. </p>
<p>Sokka’s hand touches his while the shirt is still wrapped around the mask. Zuko makes a muffled noise of concern and pulls it the rest of the way off to see Sokka standing much too close, smile still plastered on his face but brows furrowed. </p>
<p>“See,” he says, and waves a hand. “Not worth it.”</p>
<p>“More than worth it,” Sokka disagrees. He’s not looking at Zuko’s body, instead staring at the mask where the eyes should be, thumb gently stroking Zuko’s wrist. “But I didn’t mean for you to— that is, even if you <em>want </em>to—” </p>
<p>Zuko’s not really sure what the point of this was anymore, but he can hear the rejection coming. He bunches up the shirt and throws it in Sokka’s face. </p>
<p>“Trade you for a button up,” he says. “I don’t want to do that twice. My ribs hurt.”</p>
<p>Sokka lets go of his wrist. Zuko regrets asking for something else immediately, wishes he had been smart and asked for— what? To borrow Sokka’s hands? ‘Yes please just follow me home with your hands over my nipples. For modesty.’</p>
<p>“Here,” Sokka says, passing him a blue button down that’s clearly been worn recently. It smells like Sokka. It’s absurd that he knows what Sokka smells like. “A gift, from me to you. First date material?’ </p>
<p>Zuko slides his arms through, starts the buttons from the bottom. He keeps his head tilted down as he answers. </p>
<p>“I’m not really date material,” he says, because they have to actually have this conversation <em>some time. </em>Sokka’s barely backing off, no matter how far he pushes it. He needs to know where the lines are, what the expectation is.</p>
<p>“That’s what the shirt is for.” There’s a pause, and Sokka adds, “Get it? <em>Material?</em>” </p>
<p>Zuko snorts. It’s painful. “Yeah. Yeah, I got the shirt, Sokka.”</p>
<p>“Well, take the armor robe and write me a review so I know how to make them better,” Sokka decides, completely bypassing the conversation that Zuko doesn’t want to have but that he was trying to initiate anyways, because they <em>need to have it. </em></p>
<p>Zuko finds himself relieved, shoulders relaxing. </p>
<p>“And a check,” he says. “But not actually. I pay in coin.”</p>
<p>“That’s how I like it,” Sokka says lecherously, waggling his eyebrows again. </p>
<p>“All about instant gratification,” Zuko says, and shakes his head. “Slutty.”</p>
<p>He bites his tongue, instantly mortified. </p>
<p>Sokka bursts into laughter, and leans forward to help with the top two buttons that are hard to reach with his limited view behind the mask. His fingers brush Zuko’s throat, warm, and Zuko shudders. </p>
<p>“See you Thursday?” he asks, still too close. </p>
<p>“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sokka agrees warmly. Then he takes the mask’s chin, something in his gaze, but— stills. Lets go, looking away, ears red. </p>
<p>“It’s a date,” Zuko says, and then throws himself out the door as fast as Blue Spirit-ly possible. </p>
<p>He leaves with more questions than before, a bloody mouth, and clothes he didn’t really want. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"And then I said," Zuko says, and gathers a deep breath. Ty Lee pets his back soothingly. Mai pats his head, awkwardly. "IT'S A DATE."</p><p>“Aren’t you dating that Water Tribe guy?” Ty Lee asks airly, doing some sort of yoga pose directly onto his spine. </p><p>“I’m not dating Sokka! That’s the problem!” Zuko rises to his feet, waving his arms around. Ty Lee doesn’t overbalance, too used to his sudden shifts. “IT’S LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TALK.”</p><p>“Hm,” Ty Lee hums, “I know we’ve talked about this before, but is the <em>Blue Spirit </em>dating--”</p><p>“AHHHHH!” Zuko yells, and turns around to punch fire at the designated ‘emergency feelings fire punch wall’. It was designated that when he was 5 or so, by the scorch marks. </p><p>“I don’t think Zuko’s mature enough to date,” Mai says. “We shouldn’t push him.” </p><p>“Ohhh,” Ty Lee agrees, planting her feet on the ground and hopping in place a couple of times. “Our baby boy is growing up!” </p><p>“I’ve dated <em>you,</em>” Zuko says, and flops back onto the couch. He throws his head into Mai’s lap, with extreme prejudice. “I’m plenty mature enough to date.”</p><p>“Reevaluate that statement,” Mai says drily, flicking him on the forehead. </p><p>“I did <em>fine </em>with you,” Zuko says, and crosses his arms. </p><p>Ty Lee cups her mouth with her palm to stage whisper at Mai, “does he know that when we say it was ‘fine’ it’s because we didn’t come?” </p><p>“We’re not getting into that again,” Mai says firmly, slapping a hand over Zuko’s mouth and forcing him to lay back down. Her nails are long and pointed and they bite into his cheek. He doesn’t mind. </p><p>“Zuko, I don’t know if you’re ready for a consort,” Mai says. “That’s what I’m saying. You’re terrible at setting boundaries and you’re worse at talking.”</p><p>Zuko points pointedly at her hand, which is literally preventing him from talking. Mai ignores it. </p><p>“Be,” Mai squeezes his face. “Careful.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ty Lee says, walking past on her hands. “Listen to your intended. She’s smarter and hotter than you.”</p><p>Zuko doesn’t know why he even bothered to come here. But, inexplicably, he does feel better.</p><p>“Wanna go feed the turtleducks?” Ty Lee asks him cheerfully. She has a loaf of bread between her feet. He has no idea where it came from, because they weren’t eating anything and it wasn’t there a moment ago. </p><p>“No,” Zuko says petulantly, muffled against Mai’s palm.</p><p>“We’d love to,” Mai says. “Well. He’d love to. I’ll hate it the usual amount.”</p><p>That makes Zuko laugh, and she finally releases his face. He smiles up at her, and while she doesn’t smile back, her expression does soften around the edges in the way that means she wants to.</p><p>***</p><p>
Sokka doesn’t bother locking his door or windows anymore. With the host of degenerates that he calls friends and customers, it’s a pointless endeavour that gives him a false sense of safety. </p><p>He needs to stay on his <em>toes. </em></p><p>He needs to not scream like a little girl when a thud and a groan fall through the window. 
</p><p>“Katara,” the Blue Spirit says, breathing labored through the mask, gripping his ribcage. Sokka rushes over, falls to his knees beside him.</p><p>“Katara?!” he asks. The Blue Spirit shouldn’t know her name, Sokka thinks absently, and pushes the thought aside in order to prioritize more important thoughts. Like the way that the Blue Spirit’s breath is coming thin and tight, body tense with pain. </p><p>“She’s… cancelling… your lunch plans on Sunday,” the Blue Spirit gasps out. </p><p>
  <em>“What?”</em>
</p><p>“For not...sex reasons,” the Blue Spirit groans, and rolls entirely onto his back. “Fucking hell.”</p><p>Sokka is extremely confused. “I am extremely confused,” he tells the Blue Spirit, touching the back of his hand where he’s clutching his ribs, wanting to get a look at the damage that’s clearly there. Why else would the Blue Spirit be holding them so tightly? Fondness? </p><p>“You shouldn’t be,” the Blue Spirit says. “Your sister doesn’t have sex, that’s what she told me to tell you, and she’s cancelling Sunday plans for other reasons.”</p><p>“Did Katara beat you up?!” Sokka asks, staring incredulously at the mask. The mask grins grotesquely back at him. Sokka resists the urge to stick out his tongue. </p><p>“I just <em>said</em> she doesn’t have sex!” the Blue Spirit says, and drags himself to a sitting position. “I ran through my supply faster than I was expecting, that’s all.”</p><p>Sokka doesn’t let himself ponder what the Blue Spirit means by <em>she doesn’t have sex </em>in response to being asked if he’d been <em>beaten up. </em>He knows what’s being implied. It’s not important. </p><p>“So that’s what it’s for,” Sokka mutters, impressed and concerned and a little weirded out. “I’ve got some more? If you need it for...stuff?” </p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Blue Spirit says, and digs in his pocket. He pulls out a bag, slaps it into Sokka’s hand. Unlike the usual ones, this is only half embroidered. Little golden hearts on the blue velvet, not completely filled in. </p><p>The Blue Spirit embroiders his coin purses. The very nice, very elaborate coin purses that he never asks for back. And gets beat up for orgasms.</p><p>Sokka’s learning so many new things tonight. His head is maybe swimming a little, although that could be because he just drank a whole pot of Fire root tea. </p><p>“Take your time,” the Blue Spirit says, and rests his head against the wall. He settles his shoulders more comfortably, stretches his legs out in front of himself. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”</p><p>“AH,” Sokka says eloquently, and then scrambles away to the spot where he hides the drugs. It’s in his bathroom, under the towels. Incredibly clever. </p><p>He pauses for a minute to glance at the mirror; he hasn’t undone his hair yet, thank the spirits, but he’s sweaty and his shirt is dirty from standing in front of spitting grease all day. He breathes into his hand, wrinkles his nose and decides that the Blue Spirit probably can’t smell anything from behind that mask anyways. </p><p>“Here,” Sokka says, and the Blue Spirit shifts into more of a sitting position, taking the box out of Sokka’s hand. He’s not wearing his gloves, and Sokka can see how pale he is in comparison to the dark fabric of his shirt. </p><p>He doesn’t open the box right away, just slips it into his inner pocket. He <em>is</em> wearing the armor robe, but it keeps slipping open at the neck. </p><p>“Did the armor fail?” Sokka asks, suddenly feeling wretched and guilty. “Oh, gods, did I mess it up?” </p><p>“Calm down,” the Blue Spirit says, darts a pale hand out, grabs Sokka’s arm and drags him to sit closer. He pushes at Sokka’s shoulders until he’s aligned with him, leaning against the wall the same way he is. Then he just puts his hand on Sokka’s chest, petting. “Calm down.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer,” Sokka says, grabbing the Blue Spirit’s hand. It’s unnaturally warm, and he wonders for a moment if the Blue Spirit is a firebender. But he uses swords, and nobody’s ever seen him bend. As beat up as he gets, he <em>definitely </em>would have firebent by now, if only for self preservation. </p><p>“I told you,” the Blue Spirit says, and twists his hand so that their fingers are interlocking. “I just went through my supply too quickly. It’s been a while since I was seriously injured. It affected me more than I thought it would. I lost track.”</p><p>“You wear my armor to sex?” Sokka asks, confused. The Blue Spirit’s pretty dirty, too, mud and debris caked along his neck and the fibers of the robe. </p><p>“I’m not having sex with your sister, you idiot!” the Blue Spirit says, and pulls Sokka forward by the grasp he has on his hand. <em>“You’re</em> the one I want to have sex with!”</p><p>There’s a long pause. Sokka feels each moment tick away from him, his chance to salvage whatever weird friendship they have slipping away. He knows, logically, that their peers talk about how cold and unapproachable the Blue Spirit is. How he doesn’t talk, and refuses to work with others. </p><p>The Blue Spirit, very slowly, untangles their hands and leans away. His shoulders are somehow even stiffer than before, and he leans his head against the wall, staring up at Sokka’s ceiling. </p><p>“That was inappropriate?” he asks. </p><p>“Um,” Sokka says, blushing so hard he thinks his nose might start bleeding. His hand twitches where it’s no longer grasped in the Blue Spirit’s. </p><p>“It’s fine!” the Blue Spirit says, voice coming out in a rush. “I just misread things. I’m— I’m very bad at reading. My tragic vigilante backstory is that I was illiterate as a child, and—” </p><p>“It’s not that I’m not interested,” Sokka tries, except it’s. Well. It’s exactly that, actually. “I have a boyfriend. So I’m… not interested.” </p><p>“I’m not actually illiterate,” the Blue Spirit continues. “I don’t know why I said that. Sorry, you have a <em>what?”</em></p><p>Sokka turns to look at the mask. It doesn’t make it any easier. “A boyfriend? For a while now actually. I didn’t mean to, uh, lead you on? It’s just I thought that was our <em>thing</em>, you know? Banter?” </p><p>Sokka can hear how it sounds and cringes, because he’s definitely an asshole. <em>I didn’t mean to lead you on with my sexy flirting! Ha ha just kidding!</em></p><p>“That’s— fine,” the Blue Spirit says. He hauls himself to his feet, gripping the window sill. “But I don’t think we… have a thing. Since you <em>have a thing.</em> Which you <em>never mentioned.</em> I—”</p><p>He draws in a harsh breath. </p><p>“I’m leaving,” he announces, and then vaults out of Sokka’s window.</p><p>Sokka reaches the windowsill just as the end of the Blue Spirit’s ponytail whips around the corner. “I thought you knew?” Sokka says dumbly to the evening air. A hen-cat yowls at him from the alley. </p><p>***</p><p>Sokka’s favorite thing about Thursdays never shows. He kinda suspected that might happen, and isn’t too worried. He’d check on him through Katara (who doesn’t have sex) or Toph (who does? Why is he quantifying this?), except they’re both MIA for reasons he’s already thought about and now needs to evict from his brain.</p><p>Friday morning rolls in stormy and humid. Zuko’s late, and Sokka’s used to his <em>routine, </em>dammit. He knows that the weather affects the amount of tolerance Zuko has for his pain, though, and humidity is almost as bad as extreme cold. It’s possible that he might not see him at <em>all </em>today. </p><p>Unacceptable. He turns off his equipment after packing a lunch and flips his sign to closed, two paper sacks in his hands and a determination in his step. He pays for a ride to the Swamps, a seedy little area of the lower rings where weird swampbenders congregate on muddy roads and in damp alleyways. </p><p>Weird swampbenders, and Zuko’s eccentric Uncle, running the best tea shop in the lower rings. </p><p>Zuko’s sitting in a corner by the door, slouched in his chair, staring blankly at a novel. His hair is frizzing out of its ponytail, and he keeps slicking it back with one palm, frowning in frustration. He looks like he’s in agony, even through the haze of fire root. Sokka would be shocked if his eyes could focus enough right now to read. </p><p>Sokka sneaks up behind him and covers his eyes with his hands, the handles of the paper bags on his wrists. “Guess who!” </p><p>Zuko’s slowed reaction time means that he’s only just started to grip Sokka’s wrists and prepare to toss him across the building. He stills entirely at the sound of Sokka’s voice. </p><p>“Sokka?” he asks, hesitantly.</p><p>Sokka’s fingers twitch. “Nope. It’s me, Mister Belly,” he says in a deep voice. “I’m here and I’m ready to eat!” </p><p>Zuko’s hands tighten on Sokka’s forearms. “Say it again,” he threatens. “Say it a-fuckin-gain and see what happens to you.”</p><p>“HELP,” Sokka calls in his normal voice, looking over his shoulder to where Iroh’s playing a game of Pai Sho with a customer over at the counter. “I’M BEING ACCOSTED.” </p><p>“Nephew,” Iroh scolds, without looking up. “Play nice.”</p><p>“I’m not a child,” Zuko says, and pulls Sokka’s hands off his face. He tips his head back, so that he’s staring up at him. His ponytail falls over the back of the chair, spilling like ink. “What are you doing here? You work.”</p><p>Sokka <em>is </em>a child, and he pulls his shirt out of his pants to show his belly. He squishes it, making it a face, and says “I’m hungry and here to share!” in his Mister Belly voice. </p><p>Zuko’s face goes red with rage, and then white. And then he twists around in his chair, digs his fingers into Sokka’s ribcage, and <em>bites him</em> right on Mister Belly’s chin.</p><p>“GAH,” Sokka yells, flailing, and takes both himself and Zuko to the ground, the chair making a great crash as it tips. “ACCOSTED!” </p><p>“Not <em>that </em>nice, nephew,” Iroh says, not looking up from his Pai Sho game.</p><p>“I AM NOT NICE!” Zuko yells. </p><p>“THAT’S TRUE,” Sokka yells, saving the bags by lifting them over his head so that they don’t get crushed.</p><p>“What are you <em>doing</em> here?” Zuko asks, dragging himself to his feet. There’s some detangling involved. </p><p>“Only jerkbenders get lunch,” Sokka decides, shaking the bags at him. “You know any?” </p><p>“I’m not jerking your anything,” Zuko says. “So no.”</p><p>Sokka flushes and pouts, batting his eyelashes at him. “You expect Mister Belly to eat all of this by himself?” </p><p>“Get a room!” a scruffy looking woman on the other side of the store yells, and throws a small creamer cup at Zuko. It bounces off his side, and Zuko flinches, harder than seems reasonable for the throw.</p><p>“Get a <em>life,</em> Jin!” Zuko yells back at her. </p><p>“Maybe you should eat upstairs,” Iroh says diplomatically, crushing his Pai Sho opponent with one last blow. The old man across from him begins to sob. “There, there, you’re improving! Failure is the first step to success.”</p><p>“But I’ve taken <em>two thousand steps!”</em></p><p>“Maybe we should eat upstairs,” Zuko says to Sokka, rubbing the unscarred side of his face.</p><p>“Wiser words,” Sokka agrees, scooping up the bags and righting the chair. He waves at Jin, who sticks her tongue out at him. He sticks out his back, and parts the curtain to the stairs that lead to the upper floor apartment. </p><p>“So how’s your week been?” Zuko asks, following him. He stays several steps behind, even though Sokka’s not walking very quickly.</p><p>Sokka tries to flex his ass as he walks. Just in case Zuko’s looking. It’s not very easy, and he winces when he gets a cramp, surreptitiously rubbing at it once they’re in the main room of Zuko’s Uncle’s apartment.  </p><p>“Boring without you around to bully,” Sokka says honestly, pulling containers out of the bags and setting them on the tea table. He removes a clear bowl with raw dough inside and wrinkles his nose, offering it to Zuko with his customary, “nasty.”</p><p>Zuko’s face lights up, and he clutches it to his chest in a hug, sitting on the couch. Sometimes it takes him a while to work through what Sokka’s said, and this looks like one of those days. There’s a long pause before he answers.</p><p>“...so there wasn’t anyone…” he trails off, and pulls the covering off the bowl.</p><p>Sokka narrows his eyes. It’s not that Zuko doesn’t know about his side business. More that they’ve come to an unspoken agreement not to talk about it. </p><p>“Special,” he finishes, shoving his finger into the bowl and then into his mouth. Then he makes a face of disappointment, because he forgot the fire flakes, the nasty baby.</p><p>“Why?” Sokka asks, sipping his sea-prune stew. “You hear something?”</p><p>“I hear things sometimes,” Zuko confirms, and reaches over to the table. He pours a truly frightening amount of fire flakes onto the dough, even for him. </p><p>“A vigilante stopped by,” Sokka allows, testing the water. Zuko’s fixated on his food, moving sluggishly. The weather must <em>really </em>be affecting him. </p><p>“Yeah, no,” Zuko says. “I meant— special. Someone <em>special</em> special.”</p><p>Sokka thinks. </p><p>“OH! You’re right!” Sokka says, smacking his forehead with his palm. “I completely forgot to tell you that Suki’s back in town! She stopped by a few days ago to see me.” </p><p>“I know that,” Zuko snaps. He shovels more dough into his mouth, frowning furiously, mouth working around the food and unspoken words.</p><p>“Well, what did you hear? I can’t think of anyone else other than my regulars,” Sokka says, baffled and a little irritated with Zuko’s interrogation.</p><p>Zuko looks at him, sidelong. </p><p>“You can’t think of anyone else,” he asks, but he says it like a statement, all hollowed out and tired. He stares back at the bowl, which has magically emptied. “Huh. So. There’s no one else.”</p><p>Zuko can’t <em>possibly </em>be implying—  </p><p>Sokka rushes to his feet, face red with anger, and clenches his fist. “<em>What are you implying.” </em>Sokka’s never been this angry in his life, he thinks, blood rushing in his ears. Angry and <em>humiliated, </em>that Zuko would imply he’s sleeping around in his <em>place of business. </em></p><p>Zuko flinches back into the couch, eyes wide, clutching the bowl to his chest. It spatters dough remnants on his shirt. “Woah. What? Are you okay?”</p><p>“I don’t know!” Sokka yells, confused. Zuko’s looking at him wide eyed and blankly, no trace of comprehension, no antagonization in the set of his shoulders. Maybe Sokka’s jumped to conclusions? Zuko says things that he doesn’t mean a lot, not thinking them through when he’s this high. </p><p>“Uh.” Sokka says, and sits down, picking at the hem of his shirt in embarrassment. </p><p>“I’m sorry I upset you,” Zuko says earnestly, still huddled into the corner of the couch. “I didn’t mean to?”</p><p>“...Sorry I overreacted? I dunno what came over me,” he admits, picking a prune out of his bowl and squishing it between his fingers. </p><p>“Anger,” Zuko says, wisely. “Lots of anger.”</p><p>Zuko would know. He used to have a <em>terrible </em>temper, before the scar. Could barely contain it, constantly lashing out and reacting aggressively. He was always on the offensive, even with his friends, and it was a testament to Sokka’s patience that they even got along during that time. </p><p>Whatever happened, it mellowed Zuko out overnight. Not in a good way, always. Sometimes it just seems like the exhaustion and pain gave him more time to think things through, when yelling would take <em>effort.</em></p><p>Sometimes Sokka wonders if Zuko’s just given up. </p><p>Whatever Sokka’s reaction just was, it was probably a holdover from Zuko’s temper-tantrum days, always lashing out at Sokka and expecting a lashing in return. It’s been a little over a year, though, so Sokka’s more than a little embarrassed to fall into old habits.</p><p>A lot has changed in the past year. A lot about <em>them</em> has changed.</p><p>“...So,” Sokka says lamely. “How’s your week been?” </p><p>“Better now,” Zuko says. He reaches for Sokka’s sea prunes, and Sokka slaps his hand away. Zuko forces his face into a pleading, heartbroken expression. “I take that back. It’s worse. Horrible. The worst week I’ve ever—”</p><p>“You don’t even like them,” Sokka says. </p><p>“But I want them,” Zuko says, reaching again. Sokka slaps his hand again. “I want lots of things I don’t like.”</p><p>“Like my jokes,” Sokka says wisely, and this time when Zuko reaches for a prune he lets him take it. </p><p>“No, not like your jokes. Those I just don’t like,” Zuko says. He puts the sea prune in his mouth, and then grimaces, gagging. “Oh no. Oh no. Why did you let me <em>do that?”</em></p><p>“Ha ha ha,” Sokka says, pointing at him. “See? Jokes funny. You made a face, I laughed. Funny.” </p><p>“That’s me,” Zuko says flatly. “Funny face.”</p><p>Sokka feels guilty, and then affronted. “Hey! You’re not allowed to use the burn card on me!” </p><p>“I’m not?” Zuko says, and makes another, even funnier face of confusion. “I haven’t burned you at all.”</p><p>Oh spirits. He’s so, so high and so, so stupid. Sokka laughs, helplessly, dropping his hand to squeeze Zuko’s knee. </p><p>“What would a burn card even be, is it like, I set a card on fire, and then put it on you, or do I burn a card shape into you—” Zuko rambles. </p><p>Maybe it’s because he feels giddy, or guilty, or the thing with the Blue Spirit was weird, but-- Sokka does the thing he told himself he would never do with Zuko.</p><p>He makes the first move. He leans in and kisses Zuko mid sentence, cutting off the increasingly stupid stream of words that make his heart do increasingly stupid things in his chest. Zuko’s lips are soft.</p><p>And burning.</p><p>Sokka pulls back, hand covering his mouth. “Ow!” he says. </p><p>“What?” Zuko asks, eyes wide, covering his own mouth. “What?!”</p><p>“Fire flakes!” Sokka says into his palm, reaching for the now cold tea and downing it. He makes a face and chews on his bottom lip. </p><p>“You could have just had some from the shaker!” Zuko says, clapping his other hand over his mouth as well. As if he thinks that Sokka <em>kissed </em>him in order to taste some fire flakes. </p><p>Sokka gapes at him. “Are you messing with me?” he asks, lips and tongue stinging. </p><p>Zuko, warily, removes his hands. He eyes Sokka suspiciously. “Are <em>you</em> messing with <em>me?”</em></p><p>“I’m always messing with you,” he says honestly, licking his lips. </p><p>Zuko’s shoulders relax, and he slumps backwards into the couch. “Hrrghghh,” he groans. “I’m too fucking high for this.”</p><p>“You’re always too high,” Sokka says again, honestly. “I have to go to work. I’m sorry for being weird at you, I know you hold that title around these parts.” </p><p>“Ha!” Zuko says, and points at Sokka. “That’s where you’re wrong! This is <em>Uncle’s</em> apartment. You should apologize to him for ki— that. At me. Actually, don’t. Don’t tell Uncle that.”</p><p>This is why Sokka shouldn’t make the first move. Zuko obviously wants to take things slow, and Sokka went ahead and barrelled right through his boundaries. At least he’s taking it well. </p><p>“And I’m not too high at work,” Zuko says. “You just get me on my off hours.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Sokka taunts, standing and pulling his boots on. Uncle’s apartment is a no shoes zone. “Prove it. When’s your next match?” </p><p>“Tuesday,” Zuko says, and flops so that he’s laying on the couch, watching Sokka get ready to go. He looks like someone deboned him, and he yawns. “Storms… gone by then. Fighting Korra. Debut of the Banished Fire Prince.” </p><p>He wiggles his hands dramatically.</p><p>Sokka snorts, even though he <em>is </em>excited to see Zuko’s mixed martial arts competition costume. </p><p>“Thought you didn’t like them,” Zuko says, eyes slowly sliding closed. “I’ll get you tickets.”</p><p>“I don’t like working them,” Sokka corrects, having stood in for Katara as medic on more than one occasion. “They make me sick. I can watch just fine.” He doesn’t tell Zuko that he gets <em>really </em>into it, screaming and throwing things, and sometimes makes his old heart condition rear up from pure excitement for violence. </p><p>“I’ll try not to make you sick,” Zuko says, and waves a hand lazily. His eyes are entirely closed now, breathing slow. “I don’t look <em>that</em> scary. Just stupid. Bangles.”</p><p>Hot. “Hot,” Sokka says, and leaves. </p><p>“Firebender,” he hears in the apartment behind him, and a quiet woosh that means Zuko firebent a tiny bit. Sokka stops in the hall for a few seconds, smelling for smoke. </p><p>Nope. He’s good.</p><p>He goes to work smiling, lips still stinging. Bad idea. Terrible idea. Very worth it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sokka closes early the night of Zuko’s competition. He hasn’t seen Zuko since their impromptu lunch date, thanks to the weather. </p><p>He hasn’t seen the Blue Spirit either, but he doubts that’s due to the <em>weather</em>. </p><p>He doesn’t wallow for long, though. He gets to see Zuko beat Korra’s ass in a fight where Asami’s sponsoring them. Korra <em>always </em>goes all out when she knows Asami’s watching, and Asami <em>always </em>makes sure that everyone is dressed over the top. </p><p>Last time there were assless chaps. It was amazing. </p><p>Sokka’s not quite on the assless chap level, but he cleans up well when he wants to, so he cleans up. He undoes his double bun and ties his hair into a thick braid that runs along the back of his skull, beads woven in. Spends an hour ripping apart his closet before slipping into something a bit less Southern Water Tribe and a bit more Republic City — blue suspenders and a black button down, tight slacks. After a series of agonizing decisions, he goes with the darker blue vest. By then it’s running late, so he just gives up and keeps his usual jewelry and practical blue gloves in case things get hairy. It wouldn’t be the first time he went for a nice night out at one of Toph’s establishments and she dragged him into a fight.</p><p>
Boomerang responds best to the loving caress of his specialized gloves, after all. </p><p>Sokka scribbles onto a paper, <em>HE’S DEAD, GO HOME, STORE’S CLOSED, SOKKA’S DEAD </em>and slaps it to the front of the door before he leaves. He adds a little smiling face at the bottom so that people know it’s a joke. </p><p>***</p><p>“I’m not wearing those,” Zuko says. It’s the fifth time he’s refused an aspect of his costume since Asami’s presented it to him, and her expression stays as placid and condescendingly amused as always. </p><p>“Cousin, you’re being exceptionally difficult tonight,” she says, light enough to be teasing, serious enough to remind him he doesn’t have much of a choice.</p><p>“The bangles are dangerous,” Zuko says, shaking his ankles where they’re stacked, gold and conductible, just like the ones on his other ankle and wrists. “But the tassels? On my—” </p><p>“You’re fighting earthbenders,” Asami says. “They’re not dangerous, you just don’t like the jingling. You always complain about jingling bits.”</p><p>“The tassels are indecent,” Zuko says, crossing his arms defensively. </p><p>Asami cocks a hip and raises a brow. It reminds him of Azula. He silently apologizes to Asami for the thought, but keeps his own stern expression in the face of Asami’s lack of empathy. </p><p>“Zuko. The entire act is indecent.” </p><p>Zuko glowers harder. He <em>knows </em>the entire act is indecent. He can’t believe he invited Sokka while he was high, except for how he can absolutely believe it, because it’s all Sokka’s talked about.</p><p>“Also,” Asami adds, “You’re the one with nipple rings. What did you <em>expect</em> me to do, ignore such a perfect opportunity?”</p><p>“I should get Sokka to make my costumes from now on,” Zuko mutters meanly. Asami doesn’t take the bait. </p><p>“Tassels,” she says firmly. “<em>Or.</em>”</p><p>“...or?” Zuko asks. Asami smiles. The Azula resemblance grows, and shrinks, somehow. Asami’s smile is too open and honest, even if her lips curl in the same ways.</p><p>“Or we talk about how Sokka’s going to be in the audience,” Asami says, ruthlessly. She leans against the vanity’s edge, swinging the tassels in a lazy circle around her index finger.</p><p>Hm. Talking about his crush on Sokka, or wearing tassels on his nipples in front of an audience?</p><p>“Do you think he’ll like the bit at the end, where Haru grabs your—”</p><p>“Give me those,” Zuko snaps, and snatches them out of her hand. </p><p>“Fix your ponytail. It’s not princely enough,” Asami tells him with a grin. Then she tosses him a lipstick, the tube the same color as the deep burgundy of her lips. </p><p>“Yes,” Zuko says, having already fit the tearaway fabric onto his rings. He pulls the lid of the lipstick off. “Agni forbid I look less than <em>regal.</em>”</p><p>“Atta boy,” Asami says, and gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder.</p><p>***</p><p>“AND IN ONE CORNER…” the announcer’s voice booms. It’s aided by airbending, Sokka can tell. There’s a kind of tinny echo that happens with the new electronics, and it’s entirely absent. “THE FIRE PRINCE!”</p><p>The crowd boos as the stage lights up, multicolored fire at one edge, shadowing Zuko’s silhouette. They die down slowly, flickering colors across Zuko’s skin.</p><p>Sokka has to abruptly sit down, because the sight of Zuko and his outfit and what he’s wearing and the clothes and lack thereof on his body, which is right there, is too much for Sokka’s— for Sokka’s anything, actually. </p><p>The first thing he sees is how <em>shiny</em> Zuko is. He’s shirtless, and his chest gleams in the light, like he’s been oiled. But then he shifts, and the light catches, and it gleams off of golden rings in his nipples, the glittery confetti of tassels. His lips are wine dark against his face as he snarls for the crowd, eyes outlined in black and glittering gold. Something has been done to his scar, too— it looks more like stage makeup than scar tissue, especially from this distance. His hair is pulled back into a slick black ponytail with a faux gold Fire Lord crown. Against Sokka’s better judgement, he looks down. And down. And <em>down.</em> There’s just… miles and miles of creamy thighs exposed underneath the Fire Nation overskirt. </p><p>The Fire Nation overskirt, which is basically just two pieces of cloth that go OVER clothes, one in the front and one in the back. Zuko’s stance means that it hangs between his legs, protecting his bits for decency but leaving everything else exposed. </p><p>Everything. All of it. Muscles and ass and thighs and— </p><p>Sokka takes a moment to breathe. He’s maybe hyperventilating a little, not helped by the oppressive humidity of the underground fight ring and the press of cheering and booing and thrashing bodies around him. </p><p>“AND IN THE OTHER... THE BOULDER! AND! THE! ROCKEEEEER!” </p><p>The crowd goes wild, the Boulder and the Rocker entering the ring in a shower of dust and the sound of cracking rock. They’re equally undressed, dark muscles jumping as they strongman pose together. </p><p>Notably, neither of them have nipple tassels. Sokka feels half guilty for checking, and then isn’t sure why, so he looks again. Just to be sure.</p><p>Nope. Still no nipple tassels. Maybe they have ass tassels? Sokka checks there too. Just to be sure.</p><p>“You’ve gotten away with trying to install a monarchy for the last time!” the Rocker says, pointing at Zuko. </p><p>“Don’t you want to serve me?” Zuko asks, arms spread wide. He spins for the crowd, ponytail whipping through the air. </p><p><em>Sex sells,</em> Sokka thinks giddily. </p><p>“I DO!” Sokka whoops, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice. </p><p>The crowd cheers.</p><p>“You’re men of a republic,” Zuko says, and takes a broad step forward, shoulder set back, smirking. “And it sounds like the people have spoken.”</p><p>“THE BOULDER HAS TWO VOTES!” the Boulder yells, and stomps forward, getting right into Zuko’s face. He has to lean down to do it, looming over Zuko. He picks at a tassel with one hand, flicking it aside with a snarl. </p><p>The crowd screams.</p><p>Zuko tilts his head back, and from Sokka’s front row seats he can see the way Zuko swallows involuntarily before speaking.</p><p>“I’ve had bigger than you,” he says, and then winks. </p><p>“I BETCHU HAVE,” Sokka shouts, pumping his fist in the air. He knows from experience that Zuko can’t see anyone in the crowds, the stage lights blinding, but he hopes that he’s close enough for his voice to carry. </p><p>“It’s not <em>size</em> that counts, monarchist scum!” the Rocker says.</p><p>The warning bells ring, signaling that a match will start soon. Zuko dances backwards on light feet, setting himself in an opening firebending stance and leaving a trail of fire behind with each step. They stay lit for a moment, flickering, before snuffing out in a wisp of smoke. Sokka sees the way Zuko’s hand twisted and pushed down behind him, subtly extinguishing the fire while his opponents get into their positions. </p><p>The Rocker and the Boulder move to stand side by side, feet firm on the ground, spines straight, biceps flexed. </p><p>“THE MATCH...FOR THE FATE OF REPUBLIC CITY....” the announcer booms. The bell rings, ear piercing. “BEGINS!”</p><p>Zuko falls to the ground and sweeps his foot out into an arc, flames following, and spins on his hands. The two earthbenders leap out of the way and onto stone pillars they push from beneath them simultaneously. </p><p>“AND THE PRINCE TAKES A STRONG START! BELIEVER IN DIVINE RIGHT OR NOT, WE CAN ALL AGREE HE LOOKS DIVINE DOING IT!”</p><p>The Boulder grunts and sends a barrage of rocks at Zuko as Zuko’s flipping to his feet. Sokka’s standing again, trying to see over the people in front of him, desperately hoping for a gratuitous look at what Zuko’s got going on under the Fire Nation skirt. </p><p>He doesn’t feel bad. Zuko’s his <em>boyfriend. </em>Also, he’s gonna <em>kick their asses. </em></p><p>“KICK THEIR ASSES!” Sokka yells helpfully. “WITH FIRE!” </p><p>Zuko throws a punch at the Boulder. The Boulder has no choice but to dodge, something that clearly doesn’t come easy to him— he staggers backwards, falling on his ass. The Rocker comes from the side, grabbing Zuko’s still outstretched and fire shooting arm at the elbow, stomping his foot into the earth. A column of rock shoots upwards, encases Zuko’s wrist. </p><p>Zuko <em>breaks it.</em> With a <em>kick.</em> But before he can twist on Haru, the Boulder gets him from behind with a rock. Zuko skids forward and into the ropes, then bounces back, heading straight for the Boulder, snarling.</p><p>Haru’s coming up behind Zuko, though, and he shoves a column of stone at him that Zuko twists deftly around, back brushing it as he spins to face Haru. He kicks fire at him again, breaking Haru’s connection to the stone floor, and blocks a rock from the Boulder with the back of his hand. </p><p>The rock goes flying into the audience and there’s a mad scramble to catch it, people shouting and climbing over each other. A girl with shaggy pigtails and a missing tooth hollers “I GOT IT,” and Sokka grins and turns his attention back to the match. </p><p>The Boulder has just gone down, and Zuko flips onto him, straddling his chest and pointing a knife hand at the Boulder’s throat, flames cupped in his other open palm. Zuko’s panting, sweat gleaming on his temples and chest heaving, swaying the tassels with every breath. </p><p>“MATCH,” the announcer calls, “TO THE BANISHED FIRE PRINCE.” </p><p>“The Boulder would like you to get off of him now,” the Boulder says, loud enough to carry, glowering.</p><p>Zuko rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms above his head. He stands, but slowly— a sinuous move from sitting to kneeling to standing. Sokka covers his mouth, because he’s pretty sure he just made a noise he shouldn’t in public, even if it’s swallowed by the sound of wolf whistles and catcalls.</p><p>“YOU CAN SIT ON ME ANY DAY,” Sokka yells over the whistles. </p><p>Zuko turns towards the crowd, presses his palm to his lips, blows a kiss. Sokka catches it, presses it to his chest, heart fluttering. It’s fluttering a lot, actually, and he takes a moment to assess himself for ringing ears or dizziness or dread or a sudden feeling like the world’s five steps farther away than it had been before.</p><p>Nothing. He’s good, he’s good, he’s just— sappy stuff. Feelings. About Zuko. He’s not going to have an attack. </p><p>“ROUND TWO,” the announcer calls. </p><p>There’s an employee moving through the crowd offering food and drinks. Sokka waves him over for some water, attention still mostly on the way that Zuko’s hair is sticking to his sweaty skin as he takes his place in the corner of the stage, eyes on his opponents. </p><p>The employee is wearing a large hat, which Sokka mostly notices because the shade of it falls on his face and makes it hard to see as he passes over his money. He takes the water, cracks it, downs half of it right away. As his head tips back, he sees under the brim.</p><p>Sokka sputters. “Longshot?”</p><p>Longshot stares down at him solemnly. Sokka tries to ask a follow up question, but his lips feel numb. </p><p>“So I’m not supposed to congratulate you on the new job?” Sokka tries to say. All that comes out is “Ssssmaaaa?” Then his legs wobble, and he lets the water fall to the floor. </p><p>There’s hands on his shoulders, pressure he can barely feel, catching him.</p><p>“There, there, sweet thing,” Jet’s voice says. “I got you.”</p><p>***</p><p>Zuko can’t see the crowd while he performs. This is usually to his distinct advantage— if he has to see their faces, he fucks it up. If he saw Sokka out there, he’d <em>absolutely</em> fuck it up. But even still, he tries to see past the lights every time he showboats for the crowd. </p><p>The act is easy, tonight, even as it’s distinctly <em>harder </em>than usual. Or than his coworkers seem to know what to do with. </p><p>“Zuko?” Haru hisses in an undertone, popping up a discreet stone wall around Zuko’s legs. And his groin...area. </p><p>“Just kill me,” Zuko whispers. “Please.” He means it figuratively. Probably. </p><p>“AWAY WITH YOU, LUSTFUL CREATURE!” Haru yells, obligingly, and sends him flying off stage half encased in stone.</p><p>Asami’s going to be annoyed that he took a dive early, but Toph’s going to be <em>furious. </em>The lustful creature line comes <em>after</em> he’s flirted with them, and the Boulder’s done the dramatic neck hold while Haru pretends to punch him in the stomach. It doesn’t come when he’s still kneeling.</p><p>Except when he hits the ground near Toph, she’s not furious with <em>him.</em></p><p>“Sokka’s gone and gotten his stupid ass kidnapped,” she snaps in the way that Zuko knows means she’s worried more than mad. “I could feel it happening but I couldn’t get here in time.” </p><p>She’s kneeling on the ground and picks up a clay bottle with a crack in the side, sniffing it and wrinkling her nose. </p><p>
“Good thing I threw the fight!” Zuko says, taking a blessing where he can, erection already fading. He’s still dizzy from the lights and the fear that she was going to snap at him, mostly hears <em>Sokka </em>and <em>not mad at me.</em> </p><p>“Yeah-huh,” Toph says, and punches Zuko’s ankle in retribution. “Your idiot boyfriend thought I changed my stance on allowing food in my rings.” </p><p>“We’re not— he’s not—” Zuko says. Words start to slot into place. “Wait, did you kidnap him for bringing outside food in?”</p><p>Toph shoves the bottle at Zuko, snarling. “Smell it.” </p><p>Zuko sniffs. </p><p>It’s got a sharp smell to it, almost bitter. Sleeping herbs. <em>Strong</em> ones, not even herbs— a solvent, maybe. Uncle sells them with the special mixes, for home use. </p><p><em>Sokka’s been kidnapped</em> suddenly registers in his brain where it’s been battering against his denial. His heart stutters in his chest, and Toph grabs his wrist and drags him out of the crowd and into a tunnel. She stomps her foot and the entrance closes, swallowing them in darkness. </p><p>“I have a mask for you,” she says, stomping again. Part of the wall breaks open, revealing her Blind Bandit costume and a pile of various blue spirit masks. “I’m pretty sure it’s the right kind, I get extra since you’re always breaking them.”</p><p>“I can’t show up in these clothes,” Zuko says. Whoever kidnapped Sokka will recognize them, and the last thing that he needs is his identity being leaked at a time like this. </p><p>“Don’t be a baby,” Toph says.</p><p>“I’m not being—” </p><p>Toph stomps again, widens the opening. There’s a pile of black clothing in assorted sizes, and one pile that seems to be his. It has <em>armor</em> on top of it. It has a spare pair of dao. And on another one, there’s a fan, and then a water flask—  </p><p>“...Do you have rooms everywhere under the city? Toph, do you <em>live </em>under the city?” </p><p>Toph doesn’t answer, in favor of pulling out her own outfit. Zuko starts undressing, hands shaking, tries to think back to all of his latest altercations as the Blue Spirit to try and identify who might be targeting Sokka. </p><p>“I’ve got people following them,” Toph tells him. “Or trying to, anyways. There’s about twenty people who left early, and half of them were so drunk they couldn’t stand on their own. That’s pretty normal, he blended right in.”</p><p>“And you’ve got tails on all of them?” Zuko asks, barely remembering to pull the fake crown out of his ponytail. </p><p>“I know some guys who come cheap,” Toph says mildly, and pulls her sash over her face, leaving only her mouth exposed. She ties her Blind Bandit armor at the seams and tightens her bracers. </p><p>The makeshift armor feels strange on Zuko, mostly because it’s perfectly tailored to him. It’s like she had his measurements. Or— no, not her. Obviously not <em>her.</em> Or maybe her? Can she sense that? </p><p>“They’re not too good at detailed descriptions, though. They narrowed it down to five places. Split up, or together?”</p><p>“Splitting up is never a good idea,” Zuko says, despite preferring to work alone. </p><p>“True,” Toph agrees, “you <em>do </em>need to be rescued a lot.” She rolls her shoulders and the far wall crumbles open, the twitching black nose of a badgermole peaking through. </p><p>“Ah-ha!” she says, slapping some metal onto her arms and calves to bend later, “there’s our guide. This way, sugartits.” </p><p>Toph has created an underground army of badgermole minions that live in her private underground labyrinth underneath the city. </p><p>Cool. Cool, this is so cool. Very safe. Super normal. </p><p>***
</p><p>He promised Katara that he would stop going on benders with Toph. He’s promised her half a dozen times already, of course, but after the week spent in the drunk tank, he <em>really </em>meant it this time. </p><p>And yet, here he is, head pounding, mouth dry, and <em>really </em>needing to piss. Sokka groans, trying to sit up from where he’s slouched painfully. At first he thinks that he’s on Toph’s couch, but it’s too small, arm rests digging into his sides. A chair, then, and when he goes to wipe his face he can’t move his hands. </p><p>“He’s waking up,” a raspy woman’s voice says. It sounds...familiar? </p><p>Holy shit. Toph finally got Smellerbee to give her the time of day. </p><p>He cracks his eyes open, the better to see Toph and then tease her with, but— he’s in… </p><p>He pulls at his hands again, frantically, trying to snap the bindings. The abandoned warehouse is dim, shafts of light through broken boards from the city outside the only illumination.</p><p>“Sokka,” a voice says, warm and friendly and completely devoid of genuine emotion. Sokka tries to turn his head to get a better look and can’t, a sharp pain in his neck preventing him from looking behind him.</p><p>“Jet,” Sokka groans, licking his lips where they’re dry, cottonmouth from whatever drug they gave him. “Pretty heavy handed come on you’ve got here. Bondage? Really?” </p><p>Jet walks around into his field of vision, chewing on his piece of straw. “Do you like it? I figured you’d be into that kind of thing. I know your boyfriend is.”</p><p>Sokka’s eyebrow twitches. </p><p>“And this is about him, actually,” Jet says. “I mean, all this work? Just for you? Don’t be so conceited, it’s a terrible look.”</p><p>“I know how I look,” Sokka says, smirking at Jet. “And I’ve seen you looking.” He winks, and Smellerbee snorts. </p><p>“Yeah,” Jet says, casting an appreciative look over Sokka. “You look like a million bucks Sokka, honestly.”</p><p>“We’ll settle for 5,000, though,” Smellerbee says. </p><p>Sokka whistles. “Only 5 k? Come on, look at these cheekbones. This is a pretty fucking face, guys, gotta be worth at <em>least </em>12.” </p><p>Jet slaps Sokka right on his perfect cheekbone. It snaps his head to the side, setting the injury in his neck screaming, and he blinks back tears and stars. </p><p>Longshot slaps Jet in the back of the head. </p><p>“Jet!” Smellerbee yells, and drags him back. </p><p>“Yeah,” Sokka agrees, wrinkling his nose to the throbbing, “we just established that my face is valuable. Don’t go damaging your goods.” </p><p>“Your Fire elite boytoy is a <em>romantic,”</em> Jet says, shaking his hand out. He ignores the way Smellerbee’s clinging to him, and Longshot’s glare. “And I don’t think he really has room to complain about damaged goods in the face area. Do you?”</p><p>Sokka sees red and kicks out, catching Jet in the shin. He howls, hopping back, and Longshot steps forward to grip Sokka’s legs and begin binding them to the chair legs. </p><p>He shouldn’t have shown them their mistake so soon, but kicking Jet for that comment was fucking worth it. </p><p>“Could you at least try and make this easy on us?” Smellerbee asks, annoyance in her voice. Jet had elbowed her when he got kicked in the shins, and she’s holding her stomach. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal, Sokka. Your guy has a lot of money, we have you, we trade.” </p><p>“I dunno,” Sokka says, catching Longshot’s head between his knees and squeezing. Longshot lets out a breathless cry and stumbles back, but he’s already finished securing Sokka’s ankles, and they all know that Sokka’s luck has run out. Fuck, but his head is <em>pounding. </em>“Did you have to fucking <em>kidnap me</em>?” </p><p>Longshot and Smellerbee exchange longsuffering looks. Jet opens his mouth for what will no doubt be a long monologue on how kidnapping Sokka provides thousands of others with their freedom.</p><p>“We’re not doing hostages again, Jet,” Smellerbee says, cutting him off.  “This is stupid.” </p><p>“I decide what’s stupid,” Jets says. </p><p>“You can say that again!” Sokka agrees. “Betchu see it whenever you look in the mirror, eh?” </p><p>Smellerbee catches Jet’s arm again, and Sokka rolls his eyes. “What’re you even doing with this tool, you guys? All you do is clean up his poopies and hold back his tantrums.” </p><p>“Fuck off,” Smellerbee says, still holding Jet back, “or I’ll let him hit you some more. Jet’s mission--our mission-- is important. It’s jerks like your boyfriend who keep our friends and family struggling and hopeless. We’re just looking to even the odds.” </p><p>Jet’s eyes get wide, surprised, and he relaxes beneath Smellerbee’s hands. She lets go, jaw set, and Jet crosses his arms and nods. </p><p>“My boyfriend personally? Or my boyfriend’s dad?” Sokka challenges. “Your mission might be important, but the targets you choose suck. And one of those targets is <em>me.</em> You’re not getting at my boyfriend through me. You’re just hurting me.” </p><p>Jet shrugs. “If your boyfriend doesn’t care enough to rescue you, then I say that’s a you problem, sweetheart.” </p><p>Sokka lets out a wordless noise of rage. Words aren’t getting through to them, anyways. They never do. Maybe violence <em>is</em> the answer. A lot of violence, judicially applied to Jet’s stupid face.</p><p>Sokka throws himself backwards, but before he can make contact with the ground Longshot catches the back of his chair and rights it, eyeing him sternly. </p><p><em>Fuck </em>these guys. </p><p>***</p><p>“Sokka,” Jet says below them, “What’s taking him so long?”</p><p>“How should I know?” Sokka asks. He’s bound to a chair, wrists behind him and ankles to the legs. Zuko thinks that he can see a bruise on Sokka’s face, but it could just be dirt. He hopes that it’s dirt. “My boyfriend’s a busy man. Has lots of people to oppress.”</p><p>“So you admit he oppresses people,” Jet says, smugly.</p><p>“Oh, <em>yes,”</em> Sokka agrees. “Fire Nation elite? Every breath is a classist attack on the poor, underprivileged, hardworking folk of—”</p><p>Jet moves forwards. Smellerbee sticks a foot out in front of him, tripping him, and Longshot catches him. Zuko wishes he hadn’t. </p><p>“Jet, you can’t attack him for <em>agreeing</em> with you now too,” Smellerbee says, rubbing her face. “I’m getting a headache.”</p><p>“And I do agree with Jet!” Sokka says, cheerfully. “I’m really starting to see the appeal of betraying my ideals in favor of his. Did you know, for example, that Southern Water Tribe men have a heightened risk of being kidnapped and held for ransom in Republic City? What kind of racial injustice—”</p><p>“Sokka has a boyfriend?” Zuko whispers, brows furrowed behind his mask. He thought they’d addressed that, the other day. That it was a stupid rumor. And then Sokka had kissed him, but like, as a joke. Because he’s Sokka. </p><p>So does he have a Fire Nation boyfriend? How has Zuko never met him? It has to be someone that he knows, there’s not <em>that </em>many of them, at least not with enough money to warrant a kidnapping. </p><p>“Shut up!” Jet yells, and lunges forward. Smellerbee and Longshot dive on him. </p><p><em>“Now,”</em> Toph says, and rides a current of earth to the floor. </p><p>Zuko falls after her, landing in a crouch and then a roll, coming up behind Jet, swords raised. </p><p>He wants Jet, but the other two are in the way and he’s not willing to actually injure them. He flips the dao in his hands so that the dull side of the blade is out, swiping Longshot in the ankles and dodging a punch from Smellerbee. </p><p>“Oh look!” Sokka says, the same amount of forced cheer, “My friends are here! Hey guys, you wanna take a tour of this lovely building too? They’ve got complimentary ropes.” </p><p>Toph takes over with Smellerbee and Longshot, encasing Smellerbee entirely in rock with one stomp and getting her out of the fight. Toph never likes to have to actually hit her. </p><p>“Shut up,” Zuko and Jet say simultaneously. </p><p>Jet cuts his eyes to Zuko’s mask and smirks. “Nice to see you again, hot stuff. It’s been a while.”</p><p>Zuko flushes and dives for him, sloppy, and Jet dances back easily. He pulls out his tigerheads and catches Zuko’s dao in a cross, flipping the hook to spin the right one out of Zuko’s hand. It skitters across the ground and Zuko snarls, dropping the left one before Jet can hook it and catching it midair. </p><p>“Still sympathizing with the Fire Nation elite?” Jet taunts. He strains to hold his position as Zuko comes at him. “Or is Sokka just sleeping around?” </p><p>“Hey!” Sokka yells, “I resent that! I only let one rich asshole oppress me at a time.” </p><p>“And I’m sure he enjoys pressing that asshole—” Jet starts, laughing at his own joke. It distracts him enough that Zuko gets a good kick in. Not a nice kick, but a good one. “MY BALLS!”</p><p>“HAHAHA,” Sokka laughs, loud and brash, “FUCK YOUR BALLS.” </p><p>“They’re not that great in the first place,” Zuko tells Jet, and gets him around the waist with his thighs, bringing him down to the ground. He manages to pin his arms. </p><p>“Oh, do you want help yet?” Toph asks. When he glances over, she’s sitting on top of an earth dome. Longshot is nowhere in sight, which means he’s probably in the dome. Smellerbee has a pained expression on her face, still trapped in earth up to her neck.</p><p>Jet wiggles beneath Zuko, testing his hold. “Funny how we always end up like this,” Jet says, and this time when he moves it’s to roll his hips in a distinctly identifiable manner. </p><p>“Funny isn’t the word I’d use,” Zuko snarls. “Desperate, maybe.”</p><p>“Desperate for me? I’m flattered.” Jet does it again, and Zuko has to tighten his grip with his thighs to keep from getting bucked off. It’s not great, especially because Jet’s sweaty and attractive and solid beneath him. 
</p><p>Like always. </p><p>“There’s the projection,” Zuko sighs. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ve always considered you a project,” Jet says, and smirks. It’s the exact same expression he used to have right before— </p><p>“Bandit,” Zuko snaps. “Help me out before I lose my temper.”</p><p>“I don’t know if this is hot or--” Sokka starts to say.</p><p>“You have a <em>boyfriend,</em>” Zuko snaps.</p><p>“Should have known that you would fuck this up,” an unfamilar voice says right before the fire hits.</p><p>***</p><p>There’s a wall of flame between them that seems to rise out of nowhere. It separates Sokka from everyone else, and Sokka throws himself backwards in fear, shattering the chair and freeing his wrists. His ankles are still splinted to the chair legs and there’s more than one spike of debris in his back and hip, but Sokka’s not about to lay around and get roasted, so he rolls away from the heat. He picks up at least one more jagged gash on the way, the ones in his back and hip widening as he rolls frantically across the warehouse floor.</p><p>There’s an ominous rumble of earth under the sound of the fire roaring, the sharp sound of steel clashing. Assorted yells, impossible to make out correctly over the roaring in his ears. </p><p>Sokka stumbles to his feet, finally shaking off the last of the ropes. The unfamiliar man steps forward. </p><p>He’s big, and wearing all black but in a distinctly Fire Nation style. Sokka can tell that the tailoring is good, high class, so this guy is either a socialite or employed frequently enough by one to pretend. </p><p>His fingers buzz with adrenaline and Sokka flexes them, reaching in his pocket for boomerang. </p><p>It’s empty, because even if Jet is a moron he’s a skilled moron. </p><p>“Hey,” Sokka says to the guy. He’s standing casually, outside of any sort of bending or fighting stance. </p><p>“I really am sorry about this, kid,” the guy says apologetically. He points his palm outwards at Sokka. “If we’d hired some real talent, it wouldn’t have come to this.”</p><p>The Blue Spirit slams into his side, taking the guy rolling with a shout and a snarl, steam curling from his clothes where he <em>leapt </em>through a wall of flame. </p><p>“The f—” the guy yells, hitting the ground face first. The Blue Spirit pins him expertly, putting his arms in a stress position. The guy thrashes, weak flames licking from his palms and feet, but he can’t get a solid enough stance to do any damage. </p><p>“Get out of here!” the Blue Spirit tells Sokka.</p><p>“YES SIR,” Sokka yells. The flames are barely twitching along their line bisecting the warehouse, no longer full and roaring. He’s able to hop over them and dodge where Toph sends some stone at Jet, who the Blue Spirit must have released in order to come rescue him. </p><p>“WOAH!” Sokka says, ducking, “WATCH THE GOODS.” </p><p>“YEAH I’LL JUST DO THAT WON’T I!” Toph snaps at him, sending another flurry of rocks at Jet. They miss Sokka this time, though. </p><p>“MY BAD,” Sokka yells back, jogging out of the warehouse and catching himself on a bench.</p><p>“What the fuck,” Sokka asks the bench. It doesn’t respond, but it does catch him when he passes out. </p><p>***</p><p>They get the info out of the firebender, eventually, although he refuses to reveal his employer. That part doesn’t really matter— Zuko recognizes him from dinners at the house. The question was never <em>who is he working for.</em> </p><p>The plan went like this: pressure a Fire Nation elite into making some bad monetary decisions. He can’t say which one, or why, just that the guy Sokka’s dating needed to be put in a bad position, a position where he’d have to borrow or steal to pay for the ransom. 5,000 coin is more than even Zuko has on hand, and the banks are all closed for the night.</p><p>If the guy didn’t show— and he hadn’t— then he was supposed to kill Sokka. </p><p>“Fuck,” Toph says. </p><p>“Who the fuck is his boyfriend,” Zuko mutters to himself. </p><p>“You’re an idiot,” Toph tells him, and punches the goon hard enough to go down with a crack of his head against the floor. </p><p>“What do we do with him?” Zuko asks, too used to Toph’s non sequitur insults to ask what he’s missing this time. He nudges the limp body with his foot, and then has to pull it back before he gives into the urge to kick him.</p><p>“Kill him,” Toph says, no inflection. </p><p>“Woah,” Zuko says, alarmed. “His kids—” </p><p>“Hah, just kidding sugartits.” Toph says, not even calling him out on knowing that the creep has a family. “Break his arms and tie him up outside?”</p><p>“Oh,” Zuko says, relaxing somewhat. “Uh...sure?”</p><p>“I’ll take care of him, you go check that Sokka gets home alright. I can feel him passed out on the bench,” she says. She begins stretching, because as everyone knows, the vigilante that doesn’t stretch before breaking someone’s arms is liable to break a tendon in their own. </p><p>Jet, Smellerbee, and Longshot had escaped during the fight. They’re a problem for another day.</p><p>***</p><p>“I gotta stop waking up like this,” Sokka moans, face pressed against the side of the Blue Spirit’s neck. Every step sends pain throbbing through his body, and he has to cling to the Blue Spirit to keep from dropping to the ground.</p><p>“Wake up like this a lot?” the Blue Spirit asks. There’s a probing quality to the question. “Your boyfriend must be a strong guy.”</p><p>“I wake up feeling like shit a lot,” Sokka says, “but yeah, my boyfriend’s pretty strong too. </p><p>“Sounds like a medical issue,” the Blue Spirit says. There’s the barest hint of an awkward pause. “Do you want me to take you to your doctor?”</p><p>Katara can <em>never know </em>that Jet successfully kidnapped him. She’ll finally force him to move in with her and Aang for his protection, and Sokka will suffocate in sisterly worry and lectures and wither up into nothingness. </p><p>“No!” he says, too loud, and the Blue Spirit flinches but keeps walking. “Uh, no, I’ve had worse. I gotta call my boyfriend anyways, he’ll be wondering where I am.” </p><p>“You’ve been drugged,” the Blue Spirit says. “You need someone to watch over you. Are you sure he’ll come?” </p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Sokka says easily, thinking about Zuko’s face when he was up on the stage for the fight ring. “He’s gonna be dying to see me I bet.” </p><p>The Blue Spirit hums dismissively, continuing to walk. “He didn’t come for you in there. Apparently they sent messengers. Ten of them.”</p><p>Sokka knows that the Blue Spirit hit on him the last time that they were alone together, but this is a little insulting. Sokka moves his face more towards the Blue Spirit's shoulder than his neck, muttering, “he’s working right now. Nobody’s gonna be able to get to him till he’s done, and then he’s gonna be worried when he shows up and there’s been a fight and no me. I gotta call him before then.” </p><p>They walk in silence for a long moment.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the Blue Spirit says. Every word sounds like it’s being dragged from him. “I was out of line. I’m sure he’ll come.”</p><p>“You were, and he will, and…” Sokka sniffs and looks away, “thank you. For rescuing me.” </p><p>The Blue Spirit shrugs. This time when he speaks, he sounds sardonic. “What else am I good for?”</p><p>Sokka stops him before he can try and carry him up the steps to his apartment, trying to climb down. “I can walk,” he says, and the Blue Spirit lets him down but keeps hold of his arm for balance. </p><p>“Couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” the Blue Spirit asks, pretending to be grumpy. Sokka can tell he’s not actually grumpy because his other hand keeps fluttering at his side, like he wants to pick Sokka back up.</p><p>“What kinda businessman would I be to say no to a free ride?” Sokka jokes, hissing in pain as he starts to climb the steps. </p><p>“Yeah, well,” the Blue Spirit says. He stands there, watching Sokka intently. “Let me know if you ever want another one.”</p><p>“Gladly,” Sokka grunts, “can start a business where you taxi people around on your shoulders.” </p><p>“Nah,” the Blue Spirit says, and leans in the doorway. “Rides for Sokka only. It’s an exclusive service.” </p><p>Sokka stills at his door, heart pounding in his ears. “Oh,” he says, barely a whisper, and when he looks down the Blue Spirit is gone. “Oh, fuck.” </p><p>Sokka enters his apartment numbly. He likes the Blue Spirit. He likes the Blue Spirit, a lot. The flirting isn’t just playful, not anymore, and when the Blue Spirit had just hit on him Sokka had thought, for a moment, of inviting him up for a ‘free ride.’ </p><p>But when he’d turned around, he’d been gone.</p><p>Sokka stumbles towards the phone, feeling guilty and achy and needing to hear Zuko’s voice, even if he’s not here. He lifts the receiver and cradles it against his shoulder, dialing shakily. </p><p>“Asami here,” Asami says.</p><p>“Hey, it’s Sokka?” Sokka says, voice trembling. “Uh. Is Zuko done with his fight yet?”</p><p>“He’s been done a while,” Asami says. He can hear her frowning through the line. “Toph took off with him halfway through the third round. Have you seen—”</p><p>Sokka drops the receiver, fingers too numb to hold it anymore. He stares at it blankly.</p><p>There’s a knock at his door.</p><p>***</p><p>There’s a telephone booth on the corner of Sokka’s street. Not notable in many ways, earth and only a tiny slit of a window above head height, baked hot in the summer sun. Zuko strips off the mask and armor in there. His hair is matted flat to his face with sweat, makeup from the fight probably intact. He has to scrub at it with a rag dipped in alcohol, usually, to get it all off. </p><p>He bundles it all up, ties it together with the overshirt sleeves. It leaves him in a tank top and tight black shorts, barely dressed, but at least not immediately recognizable as the Blue Spirit. </p><p>Zuko should go home. He should go home. </p><p>Sokka has someone on his way to take care of him, a boyfriend who isn’t Zuko. He knows that Sokka’s safe, he made sure of it, and there’s no need to reassure himself. All he’s doing is setting himself up for more hurt and Sokka for more confusion. </p><p>Instead of going home, he scales the side of Sokka’s building, tucks the bundle of Blue Spirit gear on the roof. Then he skitters back down, walks around to the apartment entrance. Heads up the stairs at a sprint, terrified that something bad has happened in the three minutes since he last saw him.</p><p>He bangs on the door as politely as he can manage. </p><p>***</p><p>“Sorry Asami, I see them now, I gotta go.” Sokka hangs up the phone and turns to the door, trembling, adrenaline washing away and leaving him hollow and cold. </p><p>The knock comes again, much louder.</p><p>“Coming!” Sokka calls, automatic. He doesn’t have boomerang-- Jet probably still does, if Toph didn’t get it back-- but he picks up the club lying by the door and adjusts his grip, just in case. He’s not gonna do much damage to anyone like this, but like hell if he isn’t going to go down fighting.</p><p>Sokka cracks the door, sees gold and scar tissue and throws it open in relief, dropping the club to the ground so that he can wrap his arms around Zuko’s neck. </p><p>“Woah,” Zuko says, but his arms come up behind Sokka’s back, grasping at him just as desperately.</p><p>“Thank fuck you’re okay,” Sokka says past the suspicion in his chest. If people were sent for Zuko and Zuko <em>wasn’t </em>actively in the ring, then anything could have happened to him in the time that Sokka was kidnapped. </p><p>Asami said Toph had taken Zuko, at the end of his last round. It could have been to hide him. It doesn’t <em>mean— </em></p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zuko asks, tightening his grip. He tucks his face into Sokka’s neck. “You’re the one who disappeared from the ring.”</p><p>Sokka wants to pull back and get a look at him, but he doesn’t think that he has the strength to. His legs are shaking, Zuko’s grip the only thing keeping him standing. “You didn’t see anyone after? No messengers, no creeps following you?” </p><p>Zuko’s grip tightens, and then relaxes. </p><p>“Uh,” Zuko says, pulling back. He frowns, looking in Sokka’s eyes. That’s pretty unusual, and the intensity in his expression as he does so, like he’s searching for something, is also pretty unusual. “It’s me, Zuko. Do you have a concussion?”</p><p>“Why would I have a concussion?” Sokka asks hysterically, taking in the sweat and smeared makeup, the bruising along Zuko’s arms and face,the dried blood. </p><p>“Because—” Zuko’s face crumples up as he tries to think of a good lie. It’s not a very good lying face. “--you’re very clumsy?” </p><p>“Zuko,” Sokka says, voice cracking, “where were you? When Jet had me, where were you?” He thinks that he knows the answer. Zuko can say that he was at the ring, and Sokka can pretend to believe him, but for what reason? Asami told him that Zuko left with Toph, and Jet told him that he sent messengers to collect money from him in exchange for Sokka’s safety.</p><p>So unless Zuko got all beat up fighting in the ring, which is <em>scripted</em> and no contact, then how can he show up looking like this? </p><p>Zuko grimaces, shoulders hunching. He very carefully removes his arms from Sokka’s waist. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, looking miserable and guilty. “I didn’t mean— it was just easier, if you didn’t know, and then we were <em>friends,</em> and—” </p><p>Sokka punches Zuko’s arm. It’s a pretty weak punch. “They were holding me <em>ransom</em>, you fucker, and you showed up as the <em>Blue Spirit</em> instead of yourself? They just wanted some money!” </p><p>“Wait,” Zuko says. “How would showing up as me fix anything? They wanted your boyfriend.”</p><p>Sokka’s face falls. </p><p>Zuko’s the Blue Spirit, and has been flirting with him. Zuko’s also <em>Zuko, </em>who Sokka’s been dating. He missed the Blue Spirit thing somehow, but the dating thing? </p><p>How did he miss them breaking up? </p><p>“I thought,” Sokka says, and he stumbles to the table and sits down, holding his side. He laughs, hollowly, and then a little bit more hysterically.</p><p>Zuko follows him into the apartment, door clicking shut behind him.</p><p>“Oh, man, Jet was never gonna get his money.” </p><p>“Do you want some tea?” Zuko asks, walking into the kitchen. His hands are shaking nervously at his side, little back and forth motions. “I’m gonna make some tea.”</p><p>“Did we break up?” Sokka responds tiredly. </p><p>Zuko drops the tea pot. It shatters. </p><p>“What?!” he asks. He turns around, staring at Sokka. “Wait. Wait. Shut up.” Sokka hasn’t said anything. “Did we— are we—” </p><p>“Why the FUCK do you think they kidnapped me?” Sokka asks, “because I’m pretty?!” </p><p>“So your Fire Nation elite boyfriend who you’ve been keeping a secret from me could pay them lots of money!” Zuko yells, and then puts his face in his hands.</p><p>Sokka puts his face down on the table. He’s pretty much done with today, he thinks. Normally Zuko’s airheadedness is endearing, but right now Sokka thinks he might strangle him or cry. Or maybe both at the same time, if he’s feeling energetic. </p><p>“Dear fucking Agni,” Zuko says, voice muffled by his palms. Then he drops them. “I’m. I’m the Fire Nation elite boyfriend. Aren’t I. How— how long? Have I been? Your boyfriend? Am I <em>still</em> your boyfriend?”</p><p>Sokka mumbles into the table. Even he can’t hear what he’s saying, so he lifts his face. “Thought we started a few months ago, like, 6? At Aang’s party?” </p><p>Zuko moves to the table. Sits heavily in the other chair. </p><p>“Sorry for the disappointment. I guess we can pretend it never happened, since it seems like it actually… never happened.” Sokka adds. </p><p>“Shut up,” Zuko snaps. “Shut up. I just found out we’re dating, you can’t break up with me when I <em>just found out</em>. The other day. You kissed me. You weren’t— messing with me, you were kissing me? Right?”</p><p>“I typically like to do both,” Sokka admits, rubbing his face. “I try not to push your boundaries, I thought you were-- shy, or wanted to take things slow, or whatever. Cause you never made the first move.” Sokka feels lower than he has in his entire life. Talk about fucking conceit on his part, assuming Zuko was infatuated with him. </p><p>“So when you said,” Zuko says, breathing quickly. “At Aang’s party, when you said, <em>nah, I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna be your </em>special <em>friend.</em> And I said <em>what, like a boyfriend? </em>And you said, <em>yeah, sure, if you wanna use big labels,</em> and then punched me in the arm, and later I said <em>you’re a special friend to me</em>—” </p><p>Zuko puts his face in his hands again.</p><p>“It seemed pretty self explanatory,” Sokka adds helpfully. “I should have taken into consideration that you’re always blasted, though. Sorry.” </p><p>“You called Suki the love of your life like half an hour later! To her face! And tangoed with Toph!” Zuko says. “I thought that’s just how you are with your friends.”</p><p>“Suki is the love of my life,” Sokka says, “and she’s also tragically in love with someone else. And dancing with Toph is fun cause we get to say mean things about the other dancers and try and fuck each other’s steps up.” </p><p>“She put her hand on your butt, I thought it was just— and she calls me sugartits, and Suki keeps congratulating me on my great taste in men, and oh,” Zuko says. He slides out of the chair and under the table. “Don’t come down here. I live here now.”</p><p>Sokka pats Zuko’s head absently. He’s probably going to be very upset in the morning, when the throbbing and emptiness are gone. </p><p>“I thought you were all just slutty! In like a fun, big city way!” Zuko says, sounding deeply distressed. </p><p>“It can still be that,” Sokka says, scratching Zuko’s scalp. “While you’re down there, can you see if I still have shit in my body that shouldn't be there?” </p><p>“No,” Zuko says. He sniffles. “I can’t see chemicals?”</p><p>“Chair pieces,” Sokka clarifies, because Zuko was <em>there </em>and saw everything, because he’s actually the Blue Spirit too. </p><p>“Oh,” Zuko says, and there’s some shuffling noises. A loud snort. “Sorry. It’s— a lot has happened. Yeah, there’s some in your—”</p><p>Zuko’s fingertips brush against the skin of his hip through a rip in his pants. </p><p>“I need tweezers,” Zuko says, and crawls out from under the table. He stands. “And light. Can you stand or do you need to lay on the couch?”</p><p>It’s probably inappropriate to be horny right now. All that Zuko did was touch a wound in his side. </p><p>“Couch,” Sokka rasps, and Zuko’s hands are big and hot where they help him over to it. Sokka lays down and blinks at Zuko, covered in terrifying swaths of red and brown makeup, hair stuck to his face and hanging in tangles. </p><p>“I’ll,” Zuko says, and presses his fingers to Sokka’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. Mwah.”</p><p>He pulls his fingers back, wiggling them. Then he heads for the bathroom.</p><p>“Oh ocean tides,” Sokka whispers, “you’re the Blue Spirit.” </p><p>Sokka stares at the ceiling, working through that one. So Zuko didn’t know they were dating. And he flirted with him as the Blue Spirit. And Sokka told the Blue Spirit no, because he had a boyfriend. And then, right after that, Zuko asked if there was <em>someone special— </em>and Sokka had said no— and then the Blue Spirit was pissy about Sokka having a boyfriend— </p><p>Zuko comes back out with the medicine kit in hand. </p><p>“Drug me,” Sokka begs, wincing as he sits up. “And then put your hands on me, baby.” </p><p>“It’s just splinters,” Zuko says, and pushes Sokka back down. Sokka winces again. Zuko pauses. “There’s some in your back. Isn’t there.”</p><p>“Yup,” Sokka says. </p><p>“Lay on your <em>front,”</em> Zuko says, exasperated. </p><p>“Yup,” Sokka says again, and Zuko helps him out of his shirt and then onto his stomach. Sokka didn’t think that they’re first time stripping would be like this. </p><p>Zuko stares silently at his back for a long moment. Then he clicks the kit open. </p><p>“You might actually need drugs,” he says, which is not reassuring. </p><p>“No shit,” Sokka adds helpfully. </p><p>“I—” Zuko huffs, walks around to the head of the couch. Crouches so that he’s eye level with Sokka. “Tell me what to get for you.” </p><p>“You know just as well as me, I can’t see my own ass. Use your best judgement,” Sokka says, and swallows thickly. “I trust you.” </p><p>“I’m not putting drugs up your ass, Sokka,” Zuko says, and rolls his eyes. “I <em>just</em> found out we’re dating.”</p><p>“Oh spirits,” Sokka giggles, rubbing his face into the couch cushion, “you’re the worst. Shut up and clean me up, will you?” </p><p>“Water weed cream or fire root,” Zuko says, prodding at Sokka’s face. “If you have the fire root before, it’ll hurt less at first, but if I put the water weed cream on after, it’ll numb it for longer and you’ll be less impaired.”</p><p>Water weed cream means he’ll be able to do stuff. Maybe. Maybe butt stuff, now that he and Zuko both know that they’re dating. Sokka nods, and then realizes that he needs to actually say something out loud.</p><p>“Cream,” he says, and then wiggles a little. </p><p>“Okay,” Zuko says, and disappears from view. There’s the sound of him scrambling around under the couch.</p><p>“Zuko,” Sokka says.</p><p>Zuko pops back up, canister in hand. “Yeah?”</p><p>“When did you hide that there?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Zuko says, and unscrews the cap. “Want a fingerful before I start doing stitches?”</p><p>“Only if you feed it to me,” Sokka says, half joking.</p><p>Zuko shoves his finger into the cream.</p><p>***</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me,” Sokka asks him, blinking slowly at him from the couch. Zuko’s sitting with a knee to his chest on the floor in front of Sokka, watching him muzzily. </p><p>“Tell you what?” Zuko asks. He’s smeared some water weed cream on his scar, and it’s keeping the worst of the nerve pain away. It’s also made his face feel relaxed and floppy.</p><p>“Blue Spirit. I know who everyone is, but you didn’t tell me who you is. Are.” </p><p>“Oh,” Zuko says, and tips his head back onto the couch cushion. “‘s stupid. I thought, if I did, I wouldn’t get to flirt with you anymore. And you didn’t like me like that. You liked <em>him.</em> And only difference is—” he waves at his face.</p><p>Sokka’s reaction time is comically slow, so Zuko gets to see his face scrunch up angrily in slow motion, nose wrinkling and lips curling. </p><p>“You think I’m that shallow?” Sokka asks, offended, and takes Zuko’s hand hostage. </p><p>“I think someone like you gets to set a high standard,” Zuko corrects, twining their fingers together. </p><p>“Stop flattering me,” Sokka says, still making the mad face. “You’re the smartest, prettiest, richest, dumbest guy ever. You have a fan-club. You were a guest star on the <em>Republic City Housewives </em>radio show!” </p><p>“That’s just cuz Ty Lee’s a giant bitch,” Zuko says. It’s not immediately followed by Mai attacking him, which actually startles him for a second. “I don’t mean that. That’s just our joke, because of her character. You— you should meet her. Now that we’re—” </p><p>Sokka’s eyes go glassy. “Suki and Aang and Yue will get so jealous. They <em>love </em>that program.” </p><p>“They have terrible taste,” Zuko says, and scrunches up his nose. </p><p>“Would you have saved me if you weren’t the Blue Spirit?” Sokka asks him, noticing their twined fingers and bringing them to his lips. His mouth is warm and dry, and he kisses all over Zuko’s hand and wrist. </p><p>“Uh,” Zuko says. “What’s your opinion on pre-contractual sex?”</p><p>“I have no idea what that means,” Sokka tells him, glancing up through his eyelashes at Zuko. “I’ve been assuming that you’re a prude this whole time. And a virgin. Are you a virgin prude?” </p><p>“Yes and no,” Zuko says. He’s not sure how Sokka defines a prude, but he’s heard himself called one before. “What’s your opinion on— sex. Sex with. Me.”</p><p>Sokka takes the hand he’d been smooching and guides it to his hips. Then he presses down, and Zuko-- yeah, Zuko can. Can get a frame of reference for how Sokka is probably feeling about sex with him, right now.  </p><p>Zuko twists from his seated position against the couch, so that he’s kneeling between Sokka’s legs. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear with his free hand, then reaches for Sokka’s pants buttons.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asks. </p><p>Sokka’s eyes were already blown from the pain cream, but now they’re glassy, and he grins wide. “Fuck yeah.” He cups Zuko’s cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb along the edge of the scar. </p><p>Zuko flinches, even through the water weed, and gently moves Sokka’s hand to his hair instead.</p><p>“Sorry,” Sokka says, stroking Zuko’s hair. </p><p>“It’s fine,” Zuko says, and has to swallow. He fumbles with the buttons, almost ripping one off as he tries to force it open.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Sokka says, soft. “Just so you know.” </p><p>“Dick,” Zuko demands, still fighting with Sokka’s pants. Sokka pushes Zuko’s shaking hands away to undo the buttons for him, but doesn’t go any further. </p><p>“You sure?” Sokka asks. “You seem nervous.” </p><p>“You seem nervous,” Zuko repeats back mockingly, reflexively. It’s what he’d do with Mai or Jet.</p><p>Sokka retaliates by pushing Zuko onto his back on the floor gently, climbing between his legs and slotting their mouths together. Zuko accepts it, if only because he was about to make a fucking idiot of himself. Sokka’s shirt is still off, and there’s no good place to put his hands that he can find without risking bumping into bandages.</p><p>“Can’t believe we could have been doing this for months,” Sokka mutters where he’s moved to kissing at Zuko’s neck, breath hot as it dances across his skin. Zuko realizes that Sokka’d been essentially celibate for him, waiting for this timid version of Zuko to feel safe. </p><p>For six months Sokka waited to touch him like this. </p><p>“We met three years ago,” Zuko says, laughing at him. He tries to get a hand between their bodies, has to elbow Sokka upwards with one arm until he can. “Up your estimate.”</p><p>“Tragic,” Sokka moans, and his hand slides into Zuko’s shorts, fingers brushing his erection to try and pull it out without elbowing Zuko in the stomach. </p><p>“Time wasted,” Zuko gasps. “I can’t believe you thought I’d make the first move, you’re so stupid.”</p><p>“You don’t get to talk about stupid assumptions, here,” Sokka warns him, and Zuko grins at the tone and then arches as Sokka bites his neck. Zuko’s own grip falters for a moment.</p><p>“Why? Gonna make me shut up?” </p><p>“You?” Sokka asks, dragging his fist slowly along Zuko’s erection. His words are muffled against Zuko’s neck and Zuko wants to die, he feels so good, Sokka hard and heavy in his palm as he tries to stroke him faster.</p><p>“I dunno, you think I can?” </p><p>“I dunno, do <em>you</em> think <em>you</em> can?” Zuko asks, a mocking whine in his voice.</p><p>Sokka gasps, shuddering, and pushes himself more insistently into Zuko’s hand. He can’t believe that this is the first time they’ve ever done this together. Zuko hasn’t even had a chance to see what Sokka looks like, and they’re both already writhing and moaning. </p><p>“Shut up,” Sokka tells him, catching his lips in his teeth. He bites Zuko’s mouth, missing and getting cheek, and then kisses him again. </p><p>Zuko’s eyes squeeze closed, biting at the inside of his cheek to try and hold it together just a little longer. “Make me,” he says, getting right to the point. </p><p>Sokka shoves his tongue into Zuko’s mouth, forcing his head back so that he can kiss him deep and hard, one hand on his chest and the other working Zuko’s cock frantically between them. He groans into Zuko’s mouth and Zuko moans back, widening his jaw, giving Sokka what he wants. </p><p>He’s going to come. The knowledge of it is like— not the opposite of dread, but not the same. He can feel it building, inevitable and big and impossible to stop. Zuko fights it, not because he doesn’t want it, but because it’s a <em>lot. </em>He can’t focus on the kiss anymore, entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Sokka’s hand and the tension in his stomach and thighs.</p><p>“Gonna,” Sokka warns, and dives right back into kissing him. Sokka’s hips jerk against Zuko’s hand and reflexively he squeezes harder, pulling a high, breathy sound from Sokka just before he comes all over Zuko’s palm, wet and hot. </p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” Zuko says into Sokka’s mouth, eyes snapping open. His spine bows, his toes curl, eyes rolling back as he stops fighting it.</p><p>It’s a lot, just like he thought that it would be. It’s enough he can’t think, that he stops breathing, trembling between Sokka’s body and the hard floor. </p><p>“Blurgh,” Sokka grunts into Zuko’s neck. </p><p>“Sexy,” Zuko huffs, seeing stars. Sokka licks him. “Sokka!”</p><p>“Mhhm,” Sokka agrees, wiping his hand in Zuko’s undershirt. “Night.”</p><p>“Bed,” Zuko says, pushing at Sokka’s shoulder. “I’ll roll you onto your back. Don’t test me.”</p><p>“I don’t have a bed,” Sokka mutters. “Sleep now.” </p><p>“You’re being a baby,” Zuko informs him, and sits up. Sokka is dead weight on his chest and legs, and it takes a few tries. “C’mon. Bedroom.” </p><p>“Waste of time,” Sokka hums, but he wraps his arms around Zuko’s waist and nuzzles at his neck fondly. </p><p>Zuko drags him to his feet. Sokka has no interest in staying on his feet, but does have a vested interest in clinging to Zuko’s waist, so it works out. Zuko trudges towards the only room in Sokka’s apartment he hasn’t been in.</p><p>Sokka doesn't have a bed. He has a bedroll on the floor, furs and thick fleece and one single rolled pillow. Sokka falls to his knees, face first into the pillow, and wiggles like he’s somehow <em>comfortable. </em></p><p>Zuko stares down at him.</p><p>“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he decides. It’s a horrible couch, but it’s better for his back than the <em>floor.</em> </p><p>“Noooo,” Sokka whines, making grabby hands at him. “I’m a snuggler. Can’t fuck-n-run on me.” </p><p>“Can’t I?” Zuko mutters, stepping out of the room. But he comes back just as quickly, tossing the cushions from the couch on the floor beside Sokka, blanket that lives draped over the back of it in his hands.</p><p>“Yessss,” Sokka cheers sleepily, eyes closed. He drags Zuko against his chest and nuzzles Zuko’s neck happily, and Zuko fights the affection as it bubbles in his chest, startling and unexpected. </p><p>“I’m buying you a mattress,” Zuko says, and then yawns. “It can be your six month anniversary gift.”</p><p>“First six months didn’t count,” Sokka mumbles. </p><p>Zuko opens his mouth to argue, and then—</p><p>Abruptly it hits him that it’s. Probably better if they <em>don’t</em> count. He does some frantic mental math about Mai. Finds that the answer is just barely acceptable.</p><p>“First date gift,” he decides. </p><p>“We’ll talk about it,” Sokka says. He pats Zuko’s belly in a way that’s somehow conciliatory. </p><p>“We’ll talk about how we get it up the stairs,” Zuko mutters, and curls in tighter. He pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, and then over his head, until just his nose is peeking out. He then shoves his nose into Sokka’s chest. </p><p>Perfect.</p><p>“Can’t wait to tell Katara that I’m dating the Blue Spirit,” Sokka giggles.</p><p>Zuko’s shoulders stiffen. </p><p>“Sokka,” he says, and removes the blanket from his head. “Sokka, how long has Katara thought we were dating?”</p><p>“Shhh,” Sokka says, patting his belly again. “Sleep.” </p><p>Then he starts snoring.</p><p>Zuko stares off into the darkness of the room, eyes wide. Remembering his last check up with Katara.</p><p>
  <em>“And you’re not sexually active with anyone?” she asked, making an apologetic face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nah,” Zuko said. </em>
</p><p><em>She raised her eyebrows, disbelievingly. Zuko glowered at her. “No! That’s. Yeah. Sure. None of </em>my<em> business.”</em></p><p>
  <em>She marked something down on the chart. “Okay, let’s look at that eye.”</em>
</p><p>“I need to switch doctors,” he whispers. Sokka slaps at his face sleepily.</p><p>For the first time in a very long time, Zuko doesn’t have nightmares.</p><p> </p>
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